


Devoid of Color

by asy0uwish



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Blood and Torture, Drawing, Father-Daughter Relationship, Gay, Germany, Guns, Hawaii, Human Trafficking, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Queer Character, Revenge, Suicidal Thoughts, Water
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:48:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 42
Words: 38,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26247415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asy0uwish/pseuds/asy0uwish
Summary: Post Old Guard movie, Booker finds a visitor in his apartment. Quynh. The others don't know. After a few weeks of her "fun", they start to dream of a new teenager. Both Booker and Quynh and the others are in a race to find them.Oli is tired, and not prepared for the world they been thrown into, a state of turmoil between a revenge focused woman and Booker's chaotic family. As they learn about one another in dreams, and finally reunite, the family must deal with Quynh. Whatever they expected did not go that way, sending them back 10 steps while Quynh gets ahead by a hundred. Torn apart and put back together again, this ride or die family must figure out what to do with one of their oldest and most out of control members.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 12
Kudos: 74





	1. The beginning for the team, and the middle for Booker

**Author's Note:**

> I have not read the comics! They are on my list, but haven't quite gotten there. I am obsessed with the movie, and thought I'd make a possible after story. There is some heavy stuff in here, so there will be trigger warnings at the beginning of each chapter. Also this is gonna be really long. I hope you all enjoyed it as much I have writing it!

The team was sitting in a comfortable quiet, eating. The mission they had finished hours earlier wasn’t hard, but with sleep deprivation, taxing, especially for Andy. Things had gone a little south, but nothing outside of rectifying. She was still coming to terms with her mortality, and to put it lightly, it pissed her off. Andy looked around the table, drinking in the scene. Nile was gently playing with her cross necklace while slowly eating. Joe murmured something to Nicky, causing him to snort and blush. Andy sighed, content, enjoying the limited time she had left with her family.

The door banged open, Booker barging in, gun raised. The team jumped, Nile already with her gun. Booker was covered in dirt and blood, and looked panicked and exhausted. He had open wounds, ones the group watched knit back together. 

“What happened to you? Why are you here?” Joe said to him. Andy held her hand up, telling him ‘be quiet’. 

“Where’s Oli?” Booker asked, lowering his gun. He wasn’t concerned in the slightest about Joe's questions. He had to make sure Oli was safe. 

“Oli’s with you? How did you find them before Copley?” Nicky took a step closer to Andy, as if to protect her, even though he knew she would hate it.

“They’re not here,” Booker’s face drained of all color. Andy locked eyes with him, and felt a rush of fear. He turned and ran out the door, the rest following, trying to piece together what was happening. 

“Why would they be here? Booker?!” Nile yelled after him, checking her clip. Andy grabbed her axe, catching Joe’s eyes. He gave her a quizzical look, before it dawned on him. “Shit,” he whispered.

“Oli?!” Booker looked around frantically, gun at the ready outside the cottage. The group tensed, Nile walking slowly out of the small cottage towards him.

From the vineyard they heard a scream of pain, “BOOK!”, and a gunshot, followed by an unsettling silence.


	2. Flashback

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Talks about homelessness in the first part and heavy drinking is implied.

Booker dropped the bottle, quietly swearing while fumbling with his keys. He opened the door, only to immediately draw his gun. Something was wrong. 

The woman was average height, wearing a bright red wool jacket. Her black hair was straight and long, cascading down her shoulders. She brought the cup of water to her lips. 

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Booker.”

Booker’s breath caught in his throat. “Quynh?”

“The one and only,” Quynh spread her arms as if to say, ‘I’m as confused as you are.’ A kind, playful gesture. But Booker, even in his inebriated state, could see that the only emotion in Quynh’s eyes was cold, hard rage.

“How did you get out? And when?” Booker lowered his gun slightly, closing the door, but was still tense, sensing a fight. 

Quynh shrugged and put her drink down. “That’s the fun thing about metal,” she said, smirking at him. “It rusts. And after 500 years, it’s enough.”

“Why...why come to me? Why not Andy or Nicky or Joe? They were the ones you knew, not me” Booker slowly walked against the wall, keeping his distance.

Quynh’s demeanor changed at the mention of her old comrades, from pretend polite to murderous. “I’ll see them in time. But you,” she walked forward, grabbing his wrist and squeezing so hard he dropped the gun. She leaned up to whisper in his ear. “You are going to be more fun to play with.”  
***  
Oli woke up with some asshole trying to steal their shoes, even though they were tied to Oli’s wrist. A quick hit to the nose, a yelp of pain, and the perp fell back. 

Oli sat up, and rubbed their face. They pulled on their shoes, pondering last night's dream, filled with the six people who had been filling their dreams for years. Just a few months ago, a new woman filled her dreams, her throat slit, blood splattering on her uniform. Something changed recently, it was no longer a group of five, but a group of four and one broken man. Oli hadn’t had a dream about the drowning woman for several days, which was something they could live with.

Oli sighed, grabbing her backpack, glaring at the man who was a few feet away holding his nose. “We’re in a shelter, don’t be that asshole.” 

The man muttered something in German, but it was too quiet for Oli to pick up. “Ich spreche Deutsch,” they said, pretending to know what the man said. He paled, and walked away, grumbling.

Oli had been at the shelter for a few days, trying to make it home from Hungary. But Kaunakakai was a long way away, and they didn’t have enough money to go home yet. They could have stayed in Germany, but it wasn’t home. It was time to move on from this shelter and find another job.

Oli walked towards the door, about to open it when the priest walked by. 

“Leaving so soon?” He said, his brow furrowed with concern.

“I’m not really a big fan of Catholicism, Father,” Oli replied, itching to get out. “No offense.”

“None taken,” the Father smiled at their bluntness. “I wish you would stay longer, but it is your choice. Please know you are always welcome here.”

“Thanks,” Oli looked into the Father’s eyes and wondered how he could be so different. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Oli didn’t feel the sting of guilt before they were several blocks away. The Father was a good man, but nothing could change the way they felt about churches. They gently fingered the Star of David around their neck, and continued into the city.

After a half an hour of walking, they found themselves walking past a row of old apartment buildings. Oli stopped in front of one, not particularly special in any way, but it drew their attention. It was familiar, but Oli couldn’t place it. Little did they know that inside, the drowning woman was inside, waiting for the broken man to come home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Ich spreche Deutsch", means "I speak German."  
> I don't use google translate, but my German is far from perfect, so apologies for any future mistakes!


	3. Foggy Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: Torture, blood, vomit

Nicky was restless. He didn’t pace, or fiddle, or ramble. He tapped his finger on his elbow, his arms crossed tightly against his chest. Andy was helping Joe make dinner, but Nile was staring at Nicky.

“What’s wrong?” Nile leaned forward onto the table, noticing his jaw tense at her question.

“Nothing, I am fine,” Nicky started tapping his finger faster. Joe looked up, frowning slightly. 

“He’s restless,” Joe walked over to him, rubbing his hand against Nicky’s shoulder. “Why are you restless?”

Nicky sighed. “Something is wrong.” They all looked at him, waiting for him to continue. “I can’t explain it, I just know. It’s…like a dream.”

Andy tilted her head. “What do you mean?”

“I...I don't know,” Nicky shook his head. “I keep dreaming of a young person, but they are blurry and vague, and...I think they need help but I cannot help them.”

“It’s probably nothing, my love,” Joe presses a kiss to Nicky’s head.

“No, it’s not.”

The older immortals look at Nile, who is staring at the table. “I’ve dreamt of it too. But they are too far away to figure out anything about them.”

“How long have these dreams been happening?” Andy turns off the stove, knowing dinner will be postponed.

“A few days.”

“About a week.”

“Keep an eye on them,” Andy says. “If both of you are having them, they might mean something.”

The conversation moves on, to the next assignment and the comfortable chatter of a family. 

Later that night, Joe dreams of the teen.  
***  
Booker spluttered, vomiting water out onto the floor. Quynh watched, sitting on the bed in his small place. She swirled her drink, looking into the glass as if contemplating the meaning of life. “I’m impressed, I didn’t think you would care which drink you used to drink yourself into the ground. You have quite a nice selection.”

“So glad it pleases Your Highness,” Booker sat back in his chair, away from the basin of bloody water in between his knees. He blew on his hair, plastered to his forehead, and tried to readjust his wrists, but the tight ropes didn’t budge. In all honesty, they were probably cutting off his circulation. He coughed again, blood coming out this time instead of water. He was so tired, and surprised that he hadn’t come back with his face pressed into the basin. What he would give for a drink. 

“What’s next? Knives between the ribs? Breaking all my fingers? Or drowning me again?” Booker tried to get the hair off his forehead again, but gave up, stretching out his legs instead.

“I think I’ll let you sleep,” Quynh stood, downing her drink and placed the glass on the windowsill. She walked around Booker, running her hand across his shoulders, causing him to shiver. “I’ll be back in a few hours.”  
Booker heard the door open and close, letting him feel a small amount of relief for the first time in three weeks. He pulled against his restraints, the ropes cutting into his skin. And he slept.


	4. First Death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter's are going to start getting longer! This is the start to the story ramping up. ;)  
> Trigger warning: gun violence (vague), death (not explicit)

Tesco was fine, better than most places Oli had worked, but they still didn’t love it. Oli had the graveyard shift, and their name tag kept poking them. It wasn’t ideal, but it was the quickest gig they could get. The store was pretty empty, with a few customers scattered across the sections. Oli checked the clock, waiting for the minute hand to change before continuing to restock the display of boxes of soda cans.

Bee-doo. Oli didn’t turn their head to the new customer, but welcomed them nonetheless. They registered the sound of footfalls walking towards the register, accompanied by a small jiggling sound. Someone was trying to get into the register. Oli wasn’t worried, the register was locked when left unattended, as it was now, but when a robber came along, so did a weapon. The footsteps continued, turning away from the register, crossing the short distance to Oli. Oli could see a pair of worn work boots in their peripheral. 

“How can I help you?” Oli stood, dusting off their pants. “Is there anything in particular you are looking for?”

“Open the register,” the voice was low and gravelly, as if trained that way to avoid recognition. “Now.” Oli felt the culprit press something small and round against their back. Great. 

Oli slowly raised their hands, mind racing about what to do. Oli saw Grayson peek around the corner, only to hide behind the aisle. They hoped that he wasn’t paralyzed in fear and getting help, but then again most 19-year-old boys didn’t know how to handle a gun pressed to their coworkers back. 

Oli thought about dropping their key, but the culprit grabbed their wrist band before Oli got the chance. Oli slowly turned 90 degrees, and walked over and behind the counter. They still hadn’t gotten a good look at the perpetrator. 

“Pull anything and I kill you,” He threw the key onto the counter in front of them. “I am not bluffing.”

Oli scoffed inwardly. “Unfortunately for you, Mr. Bad Guy,” Oli grabbed the key and turned to the register. “A proclamation like that will only work on someone who fears death.”

The culprit pushed the gun farther into Oli’s back, bringing his face to their ear. “You think you’re so smart and witty, huh?” His breath was warm against their ear. “Just open the damn register.”

Oli closed their palm around the key. By this time, the few customers in the store were aware of what was happening, and one had the courage to look from their hiding spot. Oli glanced at the security camera facing the register, and let out a sigh of relief when they saw the red light still blinking. Amateur. You always take out the cameras. Dalton watched them religiously, especially at this time at night, so it was only a matter of time before the authorities showed up. Oli took a deep breath, bracing themselves. 

Before the key had landed from Oli’s throw, they felt the bullet rip through them, pain spreading like wildfire. Their body slammed against the counter as they fell to the floor, blood pouring from the wound, the screaming fading fast.


	5. The Team Meets Oli

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: Blood, gunshot wound, police brutality

_Flashes pass with lightning speed, most too fleeting to make out._

_A child holding a photo of a woman with a bright flower in her hair, a smile taking up half of her olive face._

_A young man, Star of David glinting in the sun as he speaks to the child in German, swinging them around._

_Babbling after school in a mixture of German and a dying language._

_A shelter in London._

_The store, and the boxes of soda._

_The barrel of the gun._

_A key flying through the air._

***

Nile’s breath fluttered.

Andy’s hands shook.

Joe’s arms grasped Nicky tighter.

Nicky whimpered.

They leapt upright, Joe grabbing his journal immediately.

“Another one? So soon?” Nicky looked at Andy fearfully. “It’s the teenager.”

Nile received blank looks from the rest of them. “From the dreams.”

“Jewish,” Andy told Joe. “Or some connection.”

“I couldn’t tell if they were a girl or boy, maybe neither,” Nile fingered her cross, a calming mechanism.

“Died in a grocery store,” Joe tore out the page, handing it to Andy.

“And we thought you were a baby,” Andy said to Nile, examining the drawing.

“We go find them, right?” Nile took the page from Andy, studying it.

“We finish the assignment from Copley,” Andy replied. “And then we find them.”

***

Booker woke up in tears. Not a new one, not now, he thought. After a moment he registered Quynh in front of him, eyes pulling him apart from the inside. She smiled coldly.

“They are in England,” Quynh blinked for the first time, breaking the silence. “I look forward to meeting them.”

Booker felt a chill fall over him, like he’s standing in snow barefoot. He didn’t know how, but he had to get to them before Quynh did.

***

Oli woke up right as Dalton ran around the corner, hyperventilating. “Skylar!”

“I’m okay,” Oli groaned as Dalton helped them sit up. “Who’s Skylar?”

“Oh my god, is this an amnesia situation?” Dalton’s eyes were the size for saucers. “You’re Skylar, Skylar! You’re going to be okay. We have to get you to a hospital, you were shot.”

Oli ground their teeth together. They forgot about the fake name. “Dalton, I’m fine, just a little dazed.”

“Skylar, you were shot. Look at all this blood! You need to rest until an ambulance gets here!” Dalton was shaking, hands pressed against the hole in Oli’s shirt.

“Dalton,” Oli grasped his wrists. “Dalton, look at me.” When that didn’t work, Oli forced his eyes up to theirs. “Breathe with me. Smell the flowers...blow out the candles. Smell the flowers...blow out the candles.” After a few minutes of heavy breathing, Dalton didn’t look like passing out anymore. Oli followed the cadence in the rise and fall in his chest, glancing up when a pair of legs walked up behind him. The pair of legs became a woman in a police uniform, kneeling on Oli’s other side, hands on their back and shoulder, “holding” Oli up.

“Ma’am, we really don’t think you should move. You lost a lot of blood,” Oli bit back the retort of ‘not a ma’am’ while taking in the two police officers. The female officer’s badge said Raynott. They slowly registered Grayson peering over the counter at them, Wren squeezing his arm so tight he should be losing circulation. Wait, why was Wren here? This wasn’t her shift. Their roving gaze finally stopped at the male officer, standing a few feet back, refusing to meet their eyes. “An ambulance is on the way.” Oli was missing a few too many pieces to piece together their death.

“What happened?” Oli panicked. “The guy, where is he?”

“He’s in custody,” Raynott rubbed their back reassuringly. Motherly. “You’re going to be okay, Skylar.” A sudden blubbering broke the quiet in the store. Oli looked for the source, finding Wren weeping, Grayson trying, and failing, to comfort her.

“Yo-yo-you were dead!” She wailed. “I came as soon as Grayson texted, but when I got here you were, were, were…” Wren buried her face in Grayson’s shoulder.

Dalton’s breath started picking up pace again. “I saw what happened on the cameras and I was so scared, then…he shot you,” Dalton whispered, glaring behind him. Oli was slow on the uptake. They followed Dalton’s gaze, ignoring the sirens slowly building in volume. The other police officer looked down, hands shaking.

“Did...did you shoot me?”

“I shot the perp,” he muttered. Raynott shook her head, leaning in to whisper in Oli’s ear.

“He thought you were the perp. By pure luck he hit the perp too.”

“You shot me.”

Oli got no response.

“Why did you shoot me? Did you not see my uniform, or my name tag? Or I don’t know, the guy with a gun behind me?” He scratched at his beard, looking everywhere but Oli. Oli’s mind was always a little muddled after death, but this time was bad. They were still processing the blood on the floor, sticky and thick on the ground. It bothered them to no end, and they couldn’t stop thinking about it. Just one of those things that they fixated on. Oli noticed the blood on Dalton’s wrist in the shape of fingermarks. So much blood. And then it clicked.

“You thought I was the perp cause I am brown,” Oli moved to stand, but Dalton and Raynott kept them down. Right, they were supposedly still dealing with a fatal bullet wound.

The door crashed open, two EMT’s rushing in. Dalton started blubbering, trying to explain the situation, while he moved to let them get to Oli. Raynott calmly relayed information to the EMT’s while they quickly took their own measurements on Oli. The EMT on the left stared at the hole in Oli’s shirt, and then the lake of blood beneath them.

“Well,” she said slowly, “You don’t have a bullet wound. The hole in your shirt indicates it exited you, but...it could be still in you?”

The other EMT nodded slowly. “Yeah, but where did all the blood come from?”

“Head wound,” Oli said a little too hurriedly, knowing they wouldn’t find a cut, and that Oli should be dead if they lost all the blood from their head. “I hit the counter when I fell.”

“Okay,” the first EMT stood. “I would still like to take you to the hospital to double check everything.”

“That’s really not necessary,” Oli could feel the blood seeping into their pants. No, no, no, too much was going wrong.

“It is,” they assured Oli, leaving to get a gurney.

“I can’t afford an ER bill,” Oli turned to Raynott, pleading.

Raynott’s eyes were kind and calming. “Don’t worry sweetie, we aren’t in the US.”

Oli opened their mouth to protest, but was overwhelmed by the gurney and the EMT’s and Wren’s crying and it was all too much the lights were way too bright and and and -

The ambulance door shut.


	6. Colliding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: Car crash and resulting injuries

Booker stared at the woman before him. Studied her. Today her hair was pulled up into a loose bun, a few escaped strands framing her face. Her dark blue turtleneck was form fitting, tucked into her dark jeans. 

Quynh could feel Booker watching her as she examined the books on his shelf. She had drunk all his liquor, and didn’t care enough to acquire more. The next best thing was his books.

“Why did you do it?”

Quynh stiffened, but didn’t turn around. She just kept looking at his books.

“Why...why me?”

Quynh picked up a book. She couldn’t read the cover, it was in French, a language she hadn’t quite had the time to learn yet. She leafed through the pages, admiring the worn edges. This book had been shown some love.

“I suppose I should thank you. This is the longest I’ve been sober in a while.”

Quynh closed the book, turning it slowly in her hands, relishing the weight of it. 

“Quynh?”

His question was so timid and small, so pleading, she almost gave in and turned around. Her hands shook as she slid the book back into place.

Booker didn’t say anything else, just waited patiently.

Quynh picked up another book, one with a deep teal color. “I am broken, Sebastien.” She almost laughed, she could feel his confusion. She turned to look at him. 

“I am broken,” Quynh said calmly. “You must have thought I didn’t know, based on the look on your face.” She sighed. “I know I am broken. You are broken too. You can empathize with me.”

“So why…”

“You can empathize, but not in the same way,” Quynh returned to her bookshelf analysis. “I suffered for 500 years. I want someone to know what I feel.”

Booker didn’t respond.

“And I know if I went back to our family - no, your family - they would try to fix me,” Quynh picked up a book with a simple drawing of a stuffed bear on it. She smiled inwardly. Booker was a child. “I don’t want to be fixed. I am broken. I like broken things. I like to collect them, because they are like me.”

“They are not broken,” Quynh opened his copy of the children’s book. “They will not understand.”

“They have been waiting, searching for you,” Booker saw Quynh open the book, but her eyes did not move. She wasn’t reading. She was listening. She was learning. “They would do anything for you.”

“Not completely true,” Quynh shelved the book and turned fully to him. “They stopped looking. I do not blame them, 500 years is a long time. And I was a long way down. But they will do anything for me, everything but understand.”

“Are you suggesting putting them through what you went through?” Booker kept his gaze and breath steady, but his heart was racing.

“Oh no,” Quynh chuckled. “No one deserves that fate, not even Andromache, despite her sins. No, no, I do not wish to spend another 500 years alone.”

“What do you want?”

Quynh thought for a moment. “I want them to understand. And they will. I started with you. They will all get their turn, including the new girl. Nile, correct?” The name felt foreign on her tongue. While Booker was the one who replaced her, she felt an animosity towards Nile she could not explain. A fury that the world had moved on without her.

Booker tried to move away as she approached him, but she grasped his chin in her hand. Her face was void of emotion, but her eyes were storms. Quynh leaned forward and kissed him. She smiled, releasing his face and standing up straight. “Do not fret, little brother.” Booker recoiled at the name. “Soon you will be alone no longer.”

“Quynh, where are you going?” Booker asked frantically as the woman side stepped him. “Quynh!”

The door clicked shut. Booker fought his restraints, but to no avail. His head started to swim. _What? She...didn’t...use anything...on me._ Booker focused on the teal book Quynh had been examining, forcing himself to stay awake. _Her lipstick._ Booker blacked out, Quynh’s lipstick smeared messily on his lips.

***

“Dalton…”

“Please, come back. We can keep an eye out and take extra measures to keep you safe. We love you, Skylar,” Dalton leaned forward, his eyes pleading. “You are a wonderful part of our team. I want you to be able to keep working here until you have enough money or expertise to get a better job.”

Oli leaned back into the chair, legs splayed as much as they could in the miniscule office. Dalton looked like a puppy.

“Dalton, I can’t stay.”

“But it’s not safe out there! You weren’t even safe in our store!” Dalton’s eyes started to well up. “I can’t let you go out into the world knowing you had a near death experience. And, that policeman, what happens if his partner reports him and he goes to court? You have to stay for testimony!”

“That won’t happen Dalton,” Oli said gently. “He’s a cop. Even if Officer Raynott did report him, nothing would happen.”

“Please, Skylar,” Dalton pulled out his last card. “As your friend, I am begging you. Stay.”

Oli bit their lip, and fiddled with the hem of their shirt. “I can’t.” Oli placed their nametag on the desk. “Thank you for the opportunity.”

Oli couldn’t look at Dalton as they exited the small office. Grayson and Wren weren’t on shift, which made exiting the store easier. 

_I should’ve said goodbye to them,_ Oli thought. _No. It’s better this way._ They pushed away the wave of grief. Oli stopped at the street corner, waiting for the walk sign to appear. They looked up at the street sign, blinking away pesky tears. Grayson and Dalton and Wren had broken through their shell in an instance, and Oli was foolish to let friends into their life again. Oli had been so tired they didn’t even realize they cared until it was too late, and now a trail of broken feelings laid behind them. 

The walk signal came on.

 _I’m so stupid_ , Oli chastised themselves as they started to cross. _You know the rules. Don’t let people in. I was so stupid to think this time would be different._

Oli was so lost in thought they didn’t notice the truck until it smashed into them, sending them flying. Their ribs broke when they hit the ground, puncturing their lungs. Their head had made a sickening crack when they landed. Pain swept through their left side, and they were unable to move their leg or arm. As Oli’s vision started to close in, a blurry silhouette filled their sight.


	7. Quynh's Victory Backfires

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long Chapter time!:)

Booker had watched Quynh in horror as she dragged the kid into the apartment and bound them to a chair across from Booker. What scared him even more is Quynh’s glazed eyes, a look devoid of emotion. It was if she had been on autopilot, not processing her actions.

When Quynh finished, she stood against the far wall of the apartment. Her breathing became ragged and fragmented. Her hands shook, and something clicked. Quynh looked up to meet Booker’s eyes. 

“What did you do?” Booker said slowly, fearful any speed or loudness would result in Quynh spiraling even further. He glanced back at the kid, watching their skin stitch itself back together.

Quynh looked at him, her mouth forming words with no sounds. She looked almost like a frightened kitten, small and scared and big eyes dewy. 

“Quynh?” Booker prodded.

Quynh stood, rather shakily, and walked out of the apartment. Booker has never seen that before. Quynh had always been composed and cold, never quivering and afraid.

“Uggggh,” Booker startled at the kid’s awakening. They lifted their head, blinking a few times before looking around. They pulled at their restraints, frowning. Their eyes stopped at Booker. They started to laugh, tired and insane sounding.

“Uhhh,” Booker has no idea how any of this was remotely funny. Maybe they were overwhelmed and this was their response? He was not a pretty sight per se, and the apartment looked like a shitshow. 

“Bonjour,” the kid said breathlessly at the end of their laughter. “Ça va?”

“You speak French?” Booker cursed at himself for answering in English. “Tu parles français?”

“Un peu,” they replied effortlessly. “But English would be a more efficient way to converse.”

“Okay,” Booker was confused. “Wh-why did you speak to me in French?”

“You’re from France, right?” They cocked their head. “I’ve picked up a thing or two from the dreams. Booker, correct?”

“Uh, yes,” Booker was taken aback. How did they know who he was? Was one night of dreams really enough? “Who are you?”

“You don’t know?” The kid’s brow furrowed slightly. “Hm, thought the dreams went both ways.”

“They do,” Booker assured them. “I just didn't catch your name.”

The kid stopped, examining Booker. They were oddly relaxed for being tied tightly to a chair in an apartment filled with blood and body parts. 

“Why am I here?” They asked suddenly. “Why are you here? Why does it look like a massacre happened in here?” They paused, thinking. “Our captors know we can’t die permanently, don’t they? I mean, it’s not like we are particularly important individuals.”

“I, uh,” Booker stuttered as the kid awaited an answer patiently. “It’s kinda complicated.”

“How many times have you died so far?” They were just full of questions.

“A lot,” Booker heaved a great sigh. “And I think she’s going to kill you too.”

The kid shrugged, looking around once again, eyes lingering on the tub of water between them. “It’s the drowning woman, isn’t it?”

“How do you know about that?” Booker couldn’t keep up with this kid’s thought process. “You only died a few days ago.”

They stared at him. “Do you think that’s the first time I’ve died?”

“Well, uh, yeah,” None of this made sense to Booker. “Otherwise we would’ve dreamed of you.”

The kid studied him, their eyes locked doors, showing him no secrets.

“How long have you been here?” They asked after a moment.

“A few weeks, I think,” Booker leaned his head back until he was staring at the ceiling. “Time runs together when all you do is die in excruciating ways.”

He looked back up, surprised at their sudden change in demeanor. What was inquisitive and thoughtful had turned into acceptance and guarded.

“I will do everything I can to keep Quynh from hurting you,” Booker promised.

“That’s not much,” the kid’s eyes had turned from locked doors to guarded castles. “You can’t even get yourself out.” On seeing Booker’s somber reaction, a flash of guilt flashed across their face. “You don’t have to worry about me, Booker. I’ll be alright. What’s one more trial in this horrid thing called life?” Okay seriously, what the fuck was wrong with this kid?

“You don’t get it, Quynh won’t stop until she’s shattered you,” Booker leaned forward as much as his ropes allowed, which wasn’t very much. “I have to get you out of here to Andy and Nicky and Joe and Nile, it’s the only option.”

Booker’s gaze met their’s, the kid trying to understand this deep need he had.

“Why do you want to help me?”

Booker opened his mouth, then closed it. Then opened it again, and closed it, like a fish. Wasn’t it obvious? “Because it’s the right thing to do.”

They studied Booker’s words, as if they had a physical manifestation in the air and they were picking out the lies.

“My name is Oli,” Oli said quietly. 

Booker smiled, hoping there wasn’t blood on his teeth. “It’s very nice to meet you, Oli.”

***

Joe was only half paying attention to Copley’s words, instead focusing on drawing Nile. She was focusing, leaning against her hand studying Copley’s grainy form over the computer. Nicky noticed, and nudged him with his foot under the table. Joe rolled his eyes while closing his journal, smiling internally. Nicky was always more respectful when talking to people, but Joe just didn’t like sitting still.

Copley sighed. “I haven’t been able to find anything on this new one. I’ve ID’d them, I think, not completely sure, but they have been all over the place. Barely has an internet presence. They are hard to track, like they have had to hide before.” Copley rubbed his face. Joe turned in his seat to get a better angle at him. 

“What’s their name?” Nile’s words were slightly muffled by her hand. 

“Skylar,” Copley read off a pad of paper. “Or at least that’s the closest to accurate. I’m not sure what their full name is. Seems to have a ton of aliases, but they lead to nothing but an employment record with almost no additional info. Last job was about six months ago, in Germany. They worked at a small time bookstore. They were checked into the ER under the name Skylar Pendle the day you started dreaming of them, but they have since been discharged. I really haven’t been able to find out a ton more.”

“London’s a big place,” Nicky frowned slightly. “Isn’t that where Booker is?”

Joe jerked his head towards Nicky. Nicky shrugged. “What? I wanted to check on him. He doesn’t have to know.”

“We’ll talk about this later,” Joe muttered. Nicky didn’t acknowledge the statement, but Joe knew he heard him.

“Speaking of Booker,” Copley tapped a few keys, fully ignoring the tension on the other side of the screen. “His burner phone hasn’t left his apartment in four weeks. In the past six months, when he leaves he brings his burner phone. I don’t think he had enough supplies to isolate for four weeks, and the security cam out front hasn’t shown him leave.”

Nile glanced at Joe, concerned. Joe took a deep breath, attempting to reset. “We agreed on 100 years. But Book isn’t stupid. If something serious happened that we needed to know, he would tell us.”

Copley sighed, as if he feared Joe would say that. Joe noticed the bags under his eyes, the slouch in his shoulders. 

“Anything else about Skylar you know?” Andy stared at the screen, leaning against the wall. “It’s been 3 weeks. I don’t like how long it is taking to find them.”

“I wish I could say I could,” Copley’s eyes mirrored Andy’s concern. “I’ll keep looking, and if I find anything I’ll let you know immediately. Anything else I can do?”

The group looked at each other. After a moment they came to a consensus that the answer was no. 

“Alright, I’ll get on it,” Copley said. “Thanks guys.” Copley logged off the call. Andy stepped up to the table and shut the laptop. She stood with her hand pressed down on the lid.

“You okay?” Nile placed her hand on Andy’s elbow. 

“I don’t like this,” Andy turned her gaze to Nile. “Something feels wrong.”

“So, they are good at hiding,” Nicky rubbed the back of his neck. “That’s a good asset to have, and will protect them from others seeking to do them harm.”

“We’ll find them,” Joe assured her. “They are family now. And we protect our family.”

“Skylar must be so scared, and alone,” Nicky murmured. He realized he said it out loud with a look of alarm. “But I’m sure they are fine!”

Nile chuckled. “Nice save,” she said dryly. 

Joe stood, taking Andy’s hand. “Come, let us sleep. We will be no help to Skylar if we can’t function.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ça va? - How are you?  
> Tu parles français? - You speak French?  
> Un peu - a little
> 
> My apologies if incorrect, my French is even worse than my German.


	8. Learning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: blood, mentions of torture

Oli liked Booker. He was always waiting for them when they woke up, and was able to comfort them with the smallest press of the foot.

Booker told them grand stories of the team, stories Oli suspected were slightly exaggerated, but they enjoyed them nonetheless. He told them of Andy, who could drink him under the table, Joe’s inner artist and his love story with Nicky, and Nile, the spunky ex-marine who was kind, her empathy overflowing. 

Oli sat quietly and accepted Booker’s tears when he talked of his betrayal, and how Quynh had probably kept him from dying of alcohol poisoning. He told them of his family. He taught them every possible insult in French. He told them about his favorite books, his favorite places, his favorite soccer team.

He answered all of Oli’s questions, and never prompted Oli to talk unless they wanted too. Booker would ask them questions, but never expected a response. He was quiet when Oli requested it, but they didn’t do that often. Oli wanted to see the air fill with words and worlds fantastical.

Oli decided to tell him where they were from, and about their mother, who died before Oli could even get to know her. Oli told him about her father, kind hearted and quiet, fascinated with everything from the smallest bug to the biggest star. Oli told Booker they spoke German, and just in case Quynh was lurking, they always communicated in the language from that point forward. Oli never gave pieces away of their soul, but for the first time, they were actually considering giving him more than empty words.

They told him about how the mangoes back home were better than anywhere else in the world. They compared notes, telling him about the dreams and what they knew. They told him when they agreed on a book critique, asked about Napoleon (Booker always blushed out of embarrassment), and when he smiled at them they acknowledged it. 

Oli knew he studied them when they looked around the apartment, gauging what was the most helpful to grab if they escaped, and Booker filled in the blanks when needed.

The two talked and talked, but only when Quynh left, which was becoming more and more frequent, if only for a few hours at a time. They should have slept, but both had been alone for long enough they wanted to feel human again. 

Oli acknowledged the kindness he showed them, the openness he portrayed, the genuineness of him. Oli tried to repay the favor by offering a calming presence when he came back. 

Talking to Booker felt familiar. Felt safe. Oli wasn’t ready to share, and they weren’t sure they trusted him just yet, but he was a good person to have as a fellow prisoner.

Oli listened to Booker explain how Nicky and Joe were a lot sometimes, and to be wary of learning Italian. Apparently, despite the fact the two were often romantic in their first tongues, now dead languages, they often slipped into Italian the further it went, and it was gross sometimes. They picked at their rope bindings, as they had done everytime Quynh left, slowly but surely fraying it, as Booker explained how he had once walked in on them have verbal sex. Oli offered him a face of disgust the further he got into the story. He gave them a smile in return.

Oli focused on that smile, and smiled back.

Booker was taken aback. Oli hadn’t smiled before then. He moved past his shock by grinning even wider. 

Oli wanted to live in this moment forever.

But Quynh came bursting through the door at that moment. She was holding a pair of pliers.

Quynh slammed Oli’s head back, ignoring Booker’s shouts.

Oli closed their eyes and prepared themselves for the pain.

***

_“Papa…” the child whined as they rubbed their eyes. They were wearing a onesie, and dragging a short blanket behind them. As they ambled down the hall, they heard the scritching of a pen._

_Papa was sitting at the table, dark circles under his eyes. His head was in his hands, and a half empty bottle of scotch sat next to him. His pen flew across the page, one of the many strewn across the table, like a map._

_The child stopped to watch._

_Papa rubbed his face, and leaned back, reaching for the bottle._

_“Papa?” the child asked, perched at the edge of the hallway. Papa jumped, alarmed. When he realized it was the child, he offered a tired smile, standing to pick the child up._

_“Was machst du?” Papa affectionately touched the child’s cheek. “Warum bist du wach?”_

_“Schleckt dream,” the child mumbled into his shoulder, too tired to notice themself slipping between languages. The child looked up, turning their attention to the table._

_“Was machst du, Papa?” The child frowned. There was a lot of red on those papers._

_“Oh, das Nichts,” Papa tried to turn the child’s view away._

_The child blinked, more awake now. They tried to look at the papers. “Are we in trouble, Papa?”_

_“What? No, my love,” Papa’s accent was thicker than normal. “And if we were, which we aren’t, I would save you either way. Like one of those...ah, what’s the word...superheroes!”_

_“Okay, Papa,” The child was clearly not convinced. “Promise?”_

_“I swear to you,” Papa started walking down the hall. “I will never let anything happen to you as long as I am here.”_

_The hallway faded to black, but the child still remained, staring away. “Will you save me?”_

_The child turned 180 degrees. Their eyes were black abysses. Black goo started to drip from their mouth, flowing heavily down to the ground. “Will you save me?”_

_The child slowly grew into a teenager, their clothes, demeanor, and hair changing with the age. But their eyes never moved, and the goo flowed out faster and faster, staining their shirt._

_“You were my last hope.”_

_The teenager blinked, their eyes turning back to normal for a second, fearful and trapped. “You were supposed to save me. It’s too late now.”_

***

Joe awoke with a scream. Nicky awoke with him, grabbing his arm, telling him to breath. Nile ran into the room from where she and Andy were sleeping, and Andy was close behind.

Joe gulped for air, tears streaming down his cheeks. Andy sat at the foot of his bed, holding his hands grounding him. Once he felt as though he could breathe again, he leaned into Nicky, who welcomed him with open arms.

“What happened?” Andy gently asked. 

“It’s Skylar,” Joe closed his eyes, breathing in Nicky’s scent. “The dreams, they’re memories. They are getting rawer, filled with overwhelming emotion. But this one...I think it was melded with something that’s happening now.”

“What was the memory?” Nile moved from her place at the doorway to the floor next to them.

“Skylar was very little, and had woken up from a nightmare,” Joe let go of one of Andy’s hands to hold Nicky’s. “Something was wrong with her father. They were...they were asking me to save them. They were bleeding? But it wasn’t blood...it was some sort of darkness. Their eyes...” Joe shuddered.

Andy nodded, processing. She stood. “I’ll call Copley. Something is definitely wrong. We _need_ to find them.” 

Andy left, Nile following, promising a glass of water. Nicky pressed a kiss to Joe’s forehead.

“What if something horrific happens, and we can’t protect them, or save them?” Joe whispered into Nicky’s neck.

“We will find Skylar,” Nicky ran his fingers through Joe’s curls. “We have no other choice.”

***

Oli leaned forward in their chair. Their blood was hot and heavy and thick in their mouth, dripping down their chin onto their shirt. It was warm, like syrup. This wasn’t right, it was wrong it was very wrong, wrong, wrong.

They barely registered the voices near them, their vision going in and out of focus. The voices got louder, and Oli could see someone moving around.

Fire erupted through Oli’s mouth as Quynh’s fist impacted with it. Blood flew across the room, and onto the ground. Oli didn’t move from their position half hanging out of the chair. Everything hurt to fucking much.

The last thing Oli saw was Booker’s eyes, worried and furious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Was machst du?" - What are you doing?  
> "Warum bist du wach?" - why are you awake?  
> "Schleckt dream" - bad dream.  
> "das Nichts" - nothing.


	9. Sleep Deprivation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: Mentions of torture  
> Also, some fun with a sleep deprived team. I think Joe was the most fun to write.

When Oli woke, Quynh just sat off to the side and waited. Oli kept their head down while they painfully felt their torn teeth push themselves back through their gums. They went to press their foot against Booker’s, but was met with nothing. _Right._ Quynh had pulled them just far enough apart to not be able to touch one another when she saw the foot touches. 

Oli groaned and pulled themself into a sitting position. Booker watched them intensely. “How we doing?”

Oli gave him a look that said, “What the fuck do you think?”

Oli looked to the side when they saw movement in their peripheral. Quynh gripped Oli’s shoulder, her knuckles white. Oli stared into her eyes, trying to keep a neutral facial expression.

“Ready to tell me about you?” Quynh waved her pliers. “Or do you think you can sit through another session of me pulling out your teeth?”

“Why do you want to know?” Oli’s voice was quiet and rough. “Can’t you use a computer or something?”

“Very well,” Quynh sighed, raising the pliers.

“Fine, fine, what do you want to know?” Oli said frantically. Quynh smiled. “Just please, no more.”

“Well, you seem to be a particularly fucked up individual,” Quynh pulled up a chair and straddled the back of it. “Tell me about it.”

Booker interjected immediately. “Why the fuck do you care, Quynh? They have nothing to do with this or you,” he growled.

“On the contrary,” Quynh turned towards him, her eyes dead. “I know that they are dreaming of dear Oli. I know the more pain I inflict, the more they hurt. And you of all people should know that the mind hurts more deeply than the body.”

“You’re going to make them relive their trauma?!” Booker spit. “There is literally no need for this, your family loves you and will help you, you are pushing them away by doing this!”

“I know,” Quynh picked up Oli’s necklace gently. Oli stiffened. Quynh made a sound of recognition. “E kama’ilio ‘oe iā au, Oli.”

Oli’s shield shattered at her words. “How...how do you…”

“Know Hawaiian?” Quynh let their necklace fall back to their chest. “It’s an old language, sweetheart. I am old. Shame it’s dying out, it’s a beautiful language.”

Oli took a shuddering breath, staring at her in disbelief. They didn’t say anything, just watched. Booker watched in horror as Oli’s walls started to crumble at Quynh’s delight.

“So,” Quynh picked a piece of blood off her nail. “Talk or teeth.”

***

 _Copley looked tired_. It was the only thing Andy could focus on. The circles under his eyes were admirable, almost matching the ones the team had. Every night, at least one of them woke up screaming, overwhelmed by the complexity and pure rage, fear, grief and despair that followed. 

Through the dreams, the team had figured a few more things out. Skylar was German, but not the fair skin picturesque most people envisioned. Skylar looked nothing like Papa, a struggle Joe could sympathize with when he and Nicky had adopted children. Skylar looked like their mother, a brown young woman who they always saw covered in bright colors and flowers and smiles. 

The memories they saw were scattered over the years, one night they were four, the next eleven. They watched as Skylar turned from a bright, carefree child to a teenager who slipped into the shadows with ease. Neither age was easier to watch. When they dreamt, they felt helpless, a bystander. When they dreamt of the child, the emotion was laced with confusion and fear, and the child cried out with such pain they started storing tissue next to all the beds. When they dreamt of the teen, the emotion was there, but guarded. They were devastated with loneliness, hatred, and caution, and all the colors had disappeared, zapped out. Just last night Nile had woken up screaming bloody murder, and it had taken an hour to calm her down enough to understand her.

Nile had explained the feeling of burning alive, something the other three were familiar with. Nile couldn’t explain the feeling of the flames licking her feet, unable to move, watching smoke choke the screams out of Skylar and their father. 

Copley broke the silence. “You guys look like shit.”

Nicky snorted. “We could say the same for you.”

Copley raised his glass to that, reminding Andy he was there in the flesh. “It’s not that we don’t dislike your physical presence, but why are you here?”

“I have a job for you,” Copley said. He rolled his eyes at the team's groans. “You need something to take your mind off of Skylar. To be honest, I’m surprised you’ve been okay with being sitting ducks.”

“We can't sleep for more than a couple hours at a time,” Nile grumbled into her coffee. “How are we supposed to do a mission if we can’t keep our eyes open?” She gestured towards Joe with her mug, who was slumped in his chair, arms crossed and eyes closed.

“I’m not asleep,” Joe slurred. “I am resting my eyes.”

Nicky pulled Joe’s hood down, getting him a critical eye cracked open. He snickered. Copley cleared his throat, bringing the attention back to him. “The mission is not physically taxing. It’s a simple recovery mission.”

“What are we recovering?” Andy looked at his papers over his shoulder.

“This,” Copley handed her a photo. “It’s a simple crate filled with some stolen Barrett M85s. Right now it’s awaiting pickup at a rondevu location in Helsinki. It’s a simple job, in and out, minimal security.”

“Sniper rifles. Who stole it?” Nicky took the photo from Andy’s outstretched arm. 

“Small group of militants, probably doing a supply job for a quick buck,” Copley watched Nicky as he studied the photo. “It’s unlikely they are connected to a greater group, there is no paper or technical trail, which is nearly impossible in larger illegal dealers.”

“Where’d they get it?” Joe had pulled his hood back up, but kept his eyes open this time. Copley shrugged.

“My guess is Northern Africa. A US military restock van never reached its destination a few weeks back, but when they found the van, the driver was nowhere to be found and all the supplies were missing. By the time the van was found, whoever attacked it would have been out of the country. Either that, or Ukraine.”

“Ukraine?” Nile stared blearily at him.

“Yes, Russia has been quietly taking over Ukraine for a few years,” Copley told her.

“Okay,” Andy took the picture from Nicky and handed it back to Copley. “We’ll take it.” Nile gave her a look of disbelief. “We need to do something else, Copley will find Skylar for us.”

“About that,” Copley gritted his teeth together. “Skylar doesn’t have a phone. And their travel record didn't start until two years ago. It starts in Hungary, but I can’t find any documents indicating they are actually from Hungary in any way. I have no idea how they got there.”

“Do you know anything about what happened after their grocery store death?” Joe slowly sat up straight in his seat.

“Well, they were working at a small neighborhood Tesco. I found them at a homeless shelter for LGBTQ+ youth a few miles away during that time,” Copley scratched his beard, unearthing a paper. “After they got out of the hospital, they went back to the store, and got about a half an hour from the store before they disappeared from my radar. I’ve looked all over London and if they are there, they are staying out of security camera’s sights.”

Nile sipped her coffee, processing slower than the rest of the group. She hadn’t been able to get back to sleep after the dream last night. “When do we leave?”

Copley smiled. “Tomorrow, 8 ‘o clock am. I couldn’t get you a private plane, so you all are spread out in economy class. It’s a small airport, so less security, but an hour and a half away without traffic.”

Joe groaned and thumped his forehead on the table. He turned his head so his cheek was resting on the cool wood. “Are we ever going to sleep?” Like Nile, he didn’t go back to sleep after she woke up. Since he had stayed up to watch the game, he had only gotten an hour or two of sleep before waking to Nile’s screams.

Nile slid her mug of coffee over to him. “Drink up. I’m gonna go take a nap.”

Andy watched her leave, until the door to her room thumped shut. Joe was squinting at Nile’s cup. Nicky thanked Copley, then hoisted Joe up to put him down for a nap as well. Once they disappeared down the hall, she turned her attention to Copley, who was packing away his notes.

“Be honest with me,” Copley placed an envelope on the table as she spoke, and Andy picked it up. “How bad do you think this is?” She ruffled through the papers, noting the plane tickets towards the back.

Copley sighed. “If you could die, I would suggest Skylar is dead in a river right now,” he leaned back in his chair. “I don’t want to worry them,” He flicked his eyes down the hall. “But I did find this. I can’t confirm it’s Skylar, but…”

Andy slid into the seat next to him as he pulled out his phone and pulled up a security camera from several weeks ago. Andy watched as a person facing away from the camera with Oli’s build waiting at the corner with a small backpack. Andy watched as the walk sign turned on, and the person crossed the street. She jumped back when an old pickup truck barreled into them, sending them flying.

“The truck has no plates,” Copley looked at the video as it started it over. “The person driving grabs the person walking and dumps them in the back. They drive a few blocks and turn into an old apartment complex, which has no cameras. I sent someone to check it out, but the truck was gone. I lost track of them after that.”

“Shit,” Andy whispered. “On the off chance that it is Skylar, then…”

“Then who knows what’s happening to them. Or why they were targeted,” Copley nods, finishing Andy’s thoughts. He noticed her hesitation and rigidness. “Go on the mission,” Copley reached out and took her hand in his. “I’ll find them.”

Andy nodded, standing abruptly. Copley took that as his cue to leave, grabbing his bag and heading for the door. Andy took the time to grab a bottle of vodka and uncork it. “James?”

Copley, standing in the doorway, turned to face her. “Yes?”

“Thank you.”

He nodded, and left. Andy watched the spot where he stood, before bringing the bottle to her lips. 

That night ended like the dreams. Devoid of color.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "E kama’ilio ‘oe iā au" - Talk to me in Hawaiian. Yay, a language I speak and am not bad at! :)


	10. Quynh's Prize

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: Torture (not too graphic)

“Happy?” Oli says so quietly it’s like they didn’t even say it. “Was it enough for you?”

Quynh was still straddling the chair. Her gaze was vacant, glossy. “Yes, I think it is.”

Quynh dropped the pliers and left without another word. The lock clicked, and Oli took a deep breath, leaning their head back to try and stop the tears.

“Oli?” Booker cocked his head, trying to get a better view of Oli’s face. “How are you doing?”

Oli laughed dryly, allowing a single tear to clean a road down their cheek. “I feel like shit, but at least I have all my teeth.”

Booker nodded, not sure what else to say. “I...um…”

“I swear to God if you start to treat me differently I will untie these ropes and break your nose,” Oli looked him in the eye with a piercing gaze. 

Booker laughed. There they were. He slipped into a comfortable silence. Oli was the first to break it.

“Do...do you think they know? That we’re here?” Oli sounded timid and exhausted. Booker couldn’t blame them.

“No,” Booker admitted. “If they did they would be tearing the city apart until they found you.” Oli looked disheartened. “But,” He said quietly, assuringly, “I can promise they are spending their time looking for you. They don’t leave anyone behind, ever.”

“What will happen when Andy finds out about Quynh?” Oli licked their lips, attempting to get the dried blood off.

“I’m not sure,” Booker bit his lip. “But she’ll definitely be pissed.”

“She shouldn’t be,” Oli looked out the window. “Quynh’s broken.”

“That doesn’t justify what she’s done.”

“No, you don’t get it. You think I’m fucked up? Quynh is 500 times worse. Last time we waited for you to wake up she had a full blown panic attack. It’s like there are two parts to her brain, one that just flips on and off.”

“What do you mean?” Booker blinked.

“Part of her is so consumed by hatred it overwhelms the part that isn’t,” Oli explained. “And then it’ll just flip back, and all the emotion and guilt and fear take over and fuck her up even more. She’s in a constant state of limbo where her numbness is a coping mechanism but opens her up to more pain when she registers what she did.”

Booker was speechless. Oli was...right. That’s exactly what was happening. “How are you so goddamn smart?”

Oli shook their head, enjoying slipping back into their natural banter. “I have lived more life as a 15 year old than most people do in their entire lives. Survival has a funny way of doing that.”

Booker snorted. “Yeah, I guess it does.” He paused, contemplating. “How long do you think we have?”

“If she follows her normal patterns, probably a few hours. Last time she left for a whole day.”

“Let’s hope,” Booker shook his head, smiling. “I’m sorry we had to meet like this, but I’m glad I got to meet you Oli.”

Oli didn’t respond, just sat there for a moment. Then they nodded. “Me too.”

***

Quynh wasn’t gone for a few hours. She wasn’t even gone for an hour. She was gone for 20 minutes.

When she stormed back in, she didn’t even bother to close the door, a precaution she always took.

She was carrying a grenade. 

Before Booker, or Oli could process what it was, she had slit Booker’s stomach open and thrust it in, trapped underneath his already healing skin. 

Quynh grabbed the back of his head and pulled his face close to hers. “You could’ve imprisoned Andromache and Yusuf and Nicolo for an eternity,” She spit in his face. “You deserve to die a thousand more deaths.”

“How did you find out?” Booker murmured, not hiding the fear in his eyes.

“Did you really think I would get this far without knowing how to use a phone, or a computer?” She growled. Quynh stormed out, slamming the door behind her.

“Book!” Oli’s eyes were frantic. He offered her a small smile in return.

“See you in a minute,” Booker said with a wink. Oli closed their eyes in anticipation. 

A moment later, with a muffled bang, Booker’s world went dark.


	11. Stealing a Car, Giving Booker a Head Injury, and a Gas Station

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: injuries, mental self sabotage and overwhelmed, mentions of sexual violence and human trafficking

Oli was livid. They were done watching Booker die. Oli cared about Booker, and knew they could trust him. Or had to really. Quynh had forced their hand when she forced them to talk. Oli tried to avoid their violent impulses, but Quynh had it coming.

Oli didn’t know how long Quynh would be gone, and slowly fraying a rope was taking far too long. Oli took a deep breath and stood the best they could.

 _Crash._ It was quieter than Oli had expected, but smashing the chair pushed splinters into their hand. Oli leaned back, shimmying their arms around their butt and below their legs. They braced their arms on the ground, and positioned their foot in between their restraints.

“Smell the flowers,” Oli took a deep breath in. “Blow out the candles.”

Oli cried out as their foot hit their left arm with a sickening snap. It hurt like hell, but it allowed Oli to wriggle out of the rope binds. They unwound the ropes on their other arm. Oli stood for the first time in weeks, staggering a little from the stiffness in their legs. They quickly shook it off. 

Oli flew around the apartment, snatching up a duffel bag and stuffing provisions in it. Laptop, charger, burner phone, .44, knife, extra clothes, money, and Booker’s small first aid kit all when into the bag. Oli glanced at Booker, who hadn’t stirred yet, but his insides were squelching as they knit themselves together. Oli grimaced, turning to the bookshelf. They took a book and stuffed it in, then crossed the room to their bag, scooping it up while shrugging their coat on. Oli took a moment to take a shirt on the floor, dirty but surprisingly unbloodied to wipe Booker intestines off their face. 

Oli dropped the shirt and walked to the door, hand on the knob. They looked at Booker again.

_You can’t trust anyone. You know that. But...shit. All he’s done for you, and you actually considered leaving him behind._

“Fuck,” Oli said to their conscious, pulling out a small dagger, cutting his bonds. Booker immediately fell out of the chair onto the ground, hard. Oli winced at the thump his head made when it collided. “How...the fuck am I gonna deal with _that_?”

Oli decided the best way to deal with _that_ was to tie a blanket tightly to Booker’s torso, to avoid future spillage. They gave him a baseball hat and sunglasses. “You’re drunk,” Oli muttered to themself. “Yeah, you’re drunk at 2 pm and need some help. That makes _total_ sense.”

Oli hauled the man up, teetering towards the door. They managed to get out without bumping Booker’s head on the door frame, only to turn and see several flights of stairs awaiting them. _This is gonna take forever._

Oli contemplated, ducking their head back into the room. They would prefer to take a way out that interacted with the least amount of people possible. Through the window, they saw the fire escape.

Getting Booker onto the fire escape wasn’t hard. Getting him down didn’t go so well. Oli may have (though they would never confirm it), accidentally dropped him down 3 stories. Oli flinched at the impact, quickening their descent. If Booker was about to wake up, that certainly wasn’t happening now.

Oli’s feet hit the ground, and they ran to Booker. “Sorry,” they hissed as they looped their arms around his torso under his armpits, dragging him to the intersecting alley. Oli looked down the alleys, eyes settling on the last one to their right. A car. _Bingo_.

Oli propped Booker on the trunk of the car, watching him as they looked for an open window. All the windows were up. They tried the door. Unlocked. _Score_.

Oli grinned, dumping the bags in the back, and with some effort, got Booker into the passenger's seat and seatbelt clicked in. His head lolled against his chest, his hat covering his face. Oli slid over the hood, ducking into the driver's seat, immediately locking the doors. 

Oli put their hands gently on the steering wheel, taking a quivering breath. It had only been a few minutes, but it had felt like an eternity. Like any minute Quynh would come back and find them and the cycle would start all over again. 

Oli slid their hands down, leaning forward to rest their head on the steering wheel.

“Smell the flowers,” Oli muttered. “Blow out the candles.”

Oli took one more deep breath, straightening up and leaning to the side to ruffle through the glove compartment. Some loose papers fell at Booker’s feet, as well as several small bags of white powder. 

“Okay…” Oli picked up the bags and put them back. “Just gonna ignore that.”

Oli turned to the middle console, opening it only to find more drugs and a crumbling cracker. _Weird._ Oli delved deeper, finding old candy wrappers. _If this person does illegal drugs and leaves the car unlocked, they might have left their keys._ Just as Oli thought it, they pulled the keys out of the console. Oli smiled, but dropped it as soon as they realized the keys were sticky. 

Oli closed their eyes and took a breath to center themself. Oli inserted the key, welcoming the warm thrum of the car coming to life. The tank was half full, enough to get several hours away before needing to stop. Oli adjusted their mirrors, and backed out of the alleyway, past the intersection, and turned into the alley leading out to the road. Oli pulled onto the road, getting a honk from an adjacent driver. Oli waved apologetically to them.

 _I hate driving in Europe,_ Oli thought, accelerating to the speed limit. _The steering wheel is on the wrong side of the goddamn car._

Oli glanced at Booker, and pulled the blanket forward to check on business down there when they reached a stop light. The blanket was still needed, Booker’s entrails were hanging out. Oli laid the blanket back down as the light turned green and they continued down the street, which was surprisingly empty, minus the car that honked on them. 

“GAAAH!” Booker roared to life. Oli stomped on the brakes, hitting their head on the steering wheel in the process. Booker coughed, glancing at Oli, and the car. “Holy fuck.” Booker tried to turn to Oli, groaning in the process. “Holy fuck. We’re fucking out.” Booker started laughing, and rubbed his face. “We’re out, Oli!”

Oli swallowed, and let out a breath they hadn’t known they had been holding out. “Yeah, we are.” Oli pressed their foot to the gas again.

“God, just like when Merrick took Nicky and Joe,” Booker peaked under the blanket. He leaned back against the headrest. “Oh, fuck, ow.”

“I know you’re in a lot of pain right now,” Oli bit their lip, looking at him. “But I need a direction to head, even if it’s somewhere to just catch our bearings.”

Booker nodded, eyes closed. “Go north.”

“For how long?”

“I’ll let you know. A…” Booker struggled to find the right word. “Friend of sorts lives there.”

***

Before they reached their final destination, Booker’s wound had healed, they had stopped at a gas station for snacks and the sun had started to set. Booker wasn’t great in his direction giving, and they had gotten lost a couple times. While Oli had been driving, they fell into a comfortable silence. Once Booker was healed, he dug through the bags for a new shirt, and pulled out his laptop along with it.

Booker tried to be nonchalant when he looked into the _Two Eternities of Grace Catholic Church_. The first thing he discovered is it was no longer an open orphanage or church. It had been shut down two years prior. As he read why, he had trouble hiding his reactions. Finger shaking, he clicked on case pictures for a sexual violence case dated two years ago, in Honolulu, O’ahu. Metal boxes filled his screen, small eyes and fingers pressed up against the small slot of an opening. Children as young as three being put into them. The heavy duty padlocks confirming no one in or out. As he scrolled through the photos and their attached information, he couldn’t help but be shocked at the obvious signs that were missed in this case. 

Booker frowned, and leaned closer to the screen. The official police report read: 

The youngest was three, the others ten. The children confirmed there were older individuals, stretching into the teens, but periodically any minor over the age of 10 would disappear and never be heard from again. Upon further investigation, evidence suggests the Church figures involved are connected to a human trafficking network, spanning across the US and into Europe. Reports from Europe about missing American children being found have been connected to disappearances here.

Attached to the report was a blurry photo of several teenagers, dated five years ago. Their faces were hard to make out, as if the photo was not supposed to be taken and would have consequences. Two of them were only partially in frame, and the two in frame were running. One had her hands tightly wrapped around the wrist of the smallest member in the frame. They were skinny, and their hair was shoulder length. Their eyes were the same. _Oli._ Booker tapped a few keys, pulling up all the information about the photo. 

**Location:** Debrecen, Hungary.

Booker pulled up another photo in the same folder. 

**Timestamp:** June 22, 2012.

It was another solid metal box, another padlock, another set of small fingers and eyes peering out.

 **Location:** Honolulu, O’ahu, Hawai'i, United States of America.

But this time the hand stuck out enough to flip the bird.

 **Case Number:** 2562

 **Status:** Missing

Booker blew out a breath, leaning back against the headrest. Oli had been there for years. 

“You okay?” Oli glanced at him, concerned.

“Yeah,” Booker muttered, shutting his computer. “Pull over at this gas station, we can grab some snacks.”

Oli did as he said, pulling into the gas station. Booker got out and stretched, laying his computer on his seat. “Want anything?”

“If I’m gonna keep driving, get me a coffee,” Oli was twisted in their seat, looking for something in the bag. 

“You’ve been driving for a while, I’ll drive,” Booker counted the money in his pocket.

“Oh, okay,” Oli looked taken aback as they sat back up with a small leatherbound notebook in hand. “Then, I don’t know, protein bar.”

“Cool,” Booker tossed Oli a few bucks. “Refill the tank.” 

Oli complied and got out as Booker walked towards the store. Booker pushed the door open with a small bell ringing above him. He paid it no mind, peering briefly at the cashier, who was reading a porn magazine, and clearly didn’t care he was there. 

Booker sauntered past the small shelves, grabbing a box of protein bars and some dried fruit. He stopped in the refrigerated section, picking up a double shot espresso in a can. He didn’t care enough to look at the sugar content. Booker started towards the cashier, before the baby wipes caught his eyes. He grabbed them without a second thought. He had noticed how Oli squirmed and the tension in their jaw when there was wet blood. Next to the wipes were pens and pencils. _Kind of odd placement._ Booker’s thought wandered back to Oli and their notebook. He stared at the array of writing utensils, utterly lost.

“You good?” The cashier startled him. 

“I, uh, am trying to figure out what’s good for drawing,” Booker told him as he walked around the counter. “It’s for them.” He jerked his head towards the window, where he could see Oli filling up the car. 

The cashier watched Oli a moment, then turned to the shelf. He plucked a set of colored pencils off the rack.

“These are probably the best we have,” He said, handing them to Booker. “Anything else you need?”

Booker shook his head, and followed the man up to the register. Booker watched him as he rang up all the items and threw them in a plastic bag. 

“Hey, can I ask you a question?” Booker turned to the cashier. “Why are you covered in blood?”

Booker laughed nervously. “Not an easy story to tell.”

The cashier processed his statement for a moment. 

“It’s nice.”

“What’s nice?” Now it was Booker’s turn to be inquisitive.

“Getting your kid some art supplies,” the cashier stated as if it was obvious. “You guys have been through something, and that’s a nice thing to do.” He looked out at Oli. “I got a daughter too. I’d do anything for that little girl.”

Booker followed his gaze. “Yeah. Me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! They're out! Not out of trouble though, we still have a lot of story to go. I had so much funny writing this chapter and getting to explore Oli's personality more. I'm also really vibing with this father-kid relationship thing.


	12. The Puzzle is Coming Together

Booker decided not to give Oli the pencils just yet. He put the bag in the backseat, putting his computer away and handing Oli the food. Oli closed their notebook and immediately ripped packaging open, devouring the first protein bar. Booker smiled as he ducked into the driver's seat. 

He turned the car on, taking a minute to chug his double espresso. Oli snorted, as they rubbed their face furiously with a wipe while swallowing. 

“Are you sure the first thing you put in your body in weeks should be coffee?”

Booker held out his hand as he pulled out of the gas station. “Give me a protein bar, then.”

Oli dropped one in his hand. He tore it open with his teeth and started to munch.

Out of the corner of Booker’s eye, he saw Oli bring their knees up to their chest, lean against the door and turn towards him slightly. They wiped their necklace gently, before opening their notebook, and the sound of pencil against paper filled the car. 

Booker pretended not to notice. Oli needed to be in their own world right now.

Oli broke the silence before a few minutes had passed. “Who are we going to see?”

“Don’t trust me?” Booker teased.

“I trust you,” Oli paused in their drawing to examine it. “Doesn’t mean by default I trust them.”

“That makes sense,” Booker wadded up the wrapper and threw it in the back. “His name is James Copley.” Booker could feel Oli frown.

“The guy you conspired with to capture the others?”

“Yeah,” Booker bit down a bitter laugh. “He can help us find them. Once he sees you there, he won’t hesitate.”

“What if he’s not there?” Oli returned to drawing.

“Then we have a place to get cleaned up and recharge, and I can use his access points to find them,” Booker scratched his eyebrow, little particles falling down. 

“Well, that’s mighty fancy, Mr. Booker,” Oli said sarcastically. Booker smirked, no retort prepared.

“Hey Book?” Booker glanced over, finding Oli looking straight at him. “Thanks.”

“Anytime kiddo,” Booker returned his gaze to the road. “You’re family. Family is everything.”

The scritching of the pencil stopped.

“Yeah,” Oli said, almost to themself. “Yeah, it is.”

***

Copley cursed, thunking his head against the wall behind him. He looked up from his computer to rub his eyes, but was met with the pointed gaze of a mother with two small children. He sent an apologetic look her way. Copley didn’t trust this airport's network, even though he was on his own, separate network.

His lead had led him to nothing. He had tracked a child who looked vaguely like what he thought Skylar (though he wasn’t sure that was even their real name) looked like to a human trafficking network, but it was huge. _The next assignment. But…_

Skylar’s information could be suggesting a human trafficking ring. No last name, just a first only used at one job. No information prior to Hungary. No information past five years ago. _The children in the network were all teens. Skylar is the right age. But no one nearby has a missing post...the ring was connected to an orphanage._ Copley ground his teeth, saving a note to explore the shipments. This particular ring seemed to keep the kids first names, at least for documentation purposes of their arrivals and departures. 

Copley tucked away his computer, standing at the flight attendant’s overhead announcement about boarding group D. As he boarded the plane, he racked his brain for any experience he had had with human trafficking, from freelance or the CIA. 

_The ring in Florida,_ he thought as he put his bag below the seat in front of him. _Not solid evidence of a larger operation, but possible. Of course then, the case was sent to higher ups._ But Copley remembered looking at the paperwork for a moment before getting whisked away. _Where were the hotspots...Florida, Seattle, Chicago, New York and...what was the last one?!_ Copley nodded to his seat neighbor as they joined him. They ignored his nod. _Hawai’i._

Copley pulled out his phone, and got to work.

***

Nile watched Nicky as she slid her comm into her ear. His eyes were closed, and his head was bowed, a ritual he did before every mission. Joe was smiling next to him, chewing on a piece of gum while bobbing his head, as if he had a song stuck in his head. The back of Andy’s head was visible as she drove, something she refused to let others do. Nile had theorized it was because she needed to control something, and ever since she lost her mortality, she had been more of a stickler on things like this. 

Nile’s phone buzzed, and she pulled it out of her bag. Nicky had opened his eyes, and both men were watching her with interested intent. Nile gave a confused glance to the men. 

“It’s from Copley,” Nile hadn’t opened the message yet. She glanced at Andy, who’s shoulder’s had stiffened. “I thought we were keeping radio silence.”

“We were,” Andy said through gritted teeth.

“What does it say?” Nicky asked, adjusting his sword at his side. 

Nile opened the message, drawing in a short breath sharply. The message was a photo of four teenagers, and unbeknownst to the team, the same image Booker was looking at. One of them was circled. It was Oli.

“Nile?” Joe cocked his head, showing concern in his eyes. “Is everything alright?”

Nile tried to speak as another message came in. It was a photo of a child being held by presumably their father, smiling and laughing as they sat barefoot in the sand. Under the two photos were the words:

_Their name is Oli Eben. 15 years old. Victim of human trafficking ring stretching across US and Europe - how got to Hungary. Got pulled in at age 5 after father died in a house fire and they didn’t._

“It’s Skylar, no, Oli,” Nile stared at the phone shaking in her hand. “Oli Eben. 15 years old. Ended up in Hungary because -”

Nile was cut off by the vibration of another message. 

Thanks for the fire info. Helped me pin it down.

“Because of?” Joe prompted gently.

“Human trafficking,” Nile quickly typed out a ‘your welcome message’. “Got pulled in at age five.”

“Are they still with it?” Andy didn’t turn her head, but it was clear she was engaged.

“No,” Nicky shook his head. He looked at the first photo. “This looks like an escape. And if they were still in it, they wouldn’t have a travel record like Copley found.”

Sorry to drop this right before a mission, but you needed to know.

Nile turned her phone off, leaving Copley on read. “Copley didn’t give us a location.”

“No, but he gave us a part of their story,” Andy’s shoulders sagged. “Come on, let’s get our head in the game. We need to finish this job quickly so we can find Oli.”

“Yes, boss,” Joe sat back in his seat. He winked at Nile. 

Nile offered a smile that didn’t reach her eyes back. She couldn’t get that photo out of her head. Oli, running. But from what, or who? Nile cracked her knuckles. Whoever it was, they were not gonna be happy later.


	13. Safe for Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: cutting and suicidal thoughts, mental distress

As Booker pulled into Copley’s driveway, he saw that the lights were off. Oli had stopped drawing, instead watching the outside. He had gotten lost for about a half an hour, and Oli was kind enough to not mention it, though he saw their smirk when they realized it.

Booker tried the door, but it was locked. He sighed, and adjusted the bag on his shoulder. He stared at the door, contemplating how to break into the house without substantial damage. Booker turned to leave the doorstep, turning to Oli. They were leaning against the house, shaking, looking down. Was Oli...crying? Oli looked up.

“Two hundred years and you don’t know how to pick a lock?” Oli’s eyes were sparkling with wonder and laughter. 

“What, do you?” Booker huffed.

The sparkle faded, returning a hard exterior. Oli pushed past him to the door, kneeling down at the doorknob. They pulled a small dagger out of their inside coat pocket, and put the tip into the lock. 

Booker tilted his head. Oli had a dagger? 

After a moment of fiddling, and a few curse words, the door clicked and Oli pushed it open while they stood. They turned to Booker, as if looking for approval. Booker nodded slightly, and Oli walked into the house. 

Booker clicked on the lights as Oli explored the house. He walked up to Copley’s office, finding the door open and the lights on. 

“Oli?”

Oli was standing in front of Copley’s boards, eyes darting across the photos. Booker walked into the room, stopping several feet behind them. 

“I’m gonna take a shower,” Oli breezed past him. Booker heard them leave the room, their footsteps fading. 

Booker walked up to the display. “No new pictures, huh, James?” He smiled to himself, shaking his head. Booker took a step towards the computer, only to backtrack. “No,” he reprimanded himself as he left the room, clicking the lights off behind him. “Make some food.”

Booker sauntered into the kitchen, opening cabinets and the fridge, trying to figure out what to make. His stomach growled in protest, telling him to work faster. _Dying of starvation is no cakewalk,_ he grimaced. He vaguely heard the shower turn on, pulling a jar of pickles out of the fridge. 

“Dill. Heh,” Booker returned the jar. “Never would’ve pegged him for a dill guy.” 

Booker got serious after that, making a meal for two. It felt nice to have to care for someone again, and not just his family who had been alive for much longer than him. To care for a kid. _You’re not their father,_ Booker thought, searching the drawers for a spatula. _Don’t inflate this to something you're not._ Booker continued to argue with himself about his role in Oli’s future, while also invalidating himself for being lonely and a drunk. _They need the team, not me,_ Booker turned off the stove. _I do like feeling like a dad again, though._

“Oli! Dinner’s ready! Or...whatever meal you call this,” Booker called up to the bathroom, dividing the food onto two plates, putting a little more on Oli’s. There was no response, and he couldn’t hear the shower. _It’s been a while since the shower’s been off._ “Oli?”

Booker climbed the stairs, trying to take a moderate pace, but ended up half-running-half-walking. He speed walked down the hall to the bathroom. 

“Oli?” Booker knocked quietly on the door. “Food’s ready.” No response. “You okay?” No response. Booker started to panic. “Oli?”

After a moment, Booker knocked again, met with the silence of the house. “Oli, I’m gonna come in.”

Booker still got no response, and turned the handle, thankful it was unlocked. The door creaked open. “Oli?”

Oli was standing over the sink, their hair slightly damp, their skin clean from the shower. They were clothed in a short sleeve olive green v-neck, and black jeans. They were barefoot, with drops of fresh blood in between them. Booker’s eyes followed the blood up Oli’s leg to halfway up their thigh, where they were clutching their dagger covered with new blood. Booker glanced at the sink, stained red, indicating the spillage of _a lot_ of blood. Oli was holding their wrist over the sink, watching the blood flow from the deep cut. As it closed, they raised the dagger again.

“Oli!” Booker was clenching the doorknob, but at Oli’s raising the dagger he walked forward and grabbed their wrist. Oli looked at him, eyes dark and devoid and tired. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to feel something again,” Oli’s arm started to shake, and Booker took the dagger from them. 

“Have you been doing this since you got out of the shower?” Oli looked at him blankly. “How long have you been out of the shower?”

Oli stared at him. They hadn’t moved since Booker walked in. “A half an hour.”

“I thought you hated wet blood,” Booker pocketed the dagger. Oli’s eyes followed his hand. 

“I hate sitting in wet blood,” Oli snarled, retching their hand away from him. They pushed past him, running down the stairs. 

“Oli…”Booker followed them, glancing at the deep red sink. “Oli, stop!”

Oli speed walked past the kitchen towards the door, ignoring his calls. They grabbed the doorknob, shaking Booker off when he grabbed their shoulder. They opened the door, only for Booker to push it shut. Oli twirled 180 degrees, their eyes dangerous. 

“Let. Me. Out,” Oli said through gritted teeth. 

“Oli, I don’t feel good about letting you leave,” Booker kept his hand pressed against the door. 

“What, do you think I’ll never come back? Leave you?” Oli turned the handle again, to no avail. “I don’t need you Booker! I haven’t needed anyone for years! I could’ve left you in that apartment, dying over and over again until Quynh decided to stop her homicidal rage marathon!”

“But you didn’t,” Booker said calmly. 

“Because I’m not a dick,” Oli spat. “I don’t need you!” They yelled, pushing past him, refusing to look at him in the eye. 

“But you didn’t,” Booker followed them as they walked to the other side of the house.

“SO FUCKING WHAT?” Oli grabbed their shoes, leaning against the wall to pull their converses on. “I’m not your fucking kid, you don’t have to care about me, I know you don’t, it’s fine, no one does, not leaving you doesn’t give me some great moral compass, it just means I don’t-”

“Oli, Oli, Oli,” Booker stood in front of them by a foot. Oli was talking faster and faster, getting more and more frantic. _They’re hyperventilating_. “Stop. Breathe.”

“No!” Oli turned to Booker, a single tear making its way down their cheek. “I can’t, I can’t trust anyone, everyone I do it implodes, I can only trust me, I can be alone!”

“But you don’t have to be!” Booker stepped in front of Oli’s backpack, blocking their path. “You can have a family, and friends! We will not leave!”

“Shut up!” Oli grabbed at their head, punching Booker in the chest. He didn’t move. “Everyone leaves!” Punch. “The only one I can trust is myself!” Punch. “And I can’t even do that!” Punch. “I just let myself bleed until I-I-I-”

Oli stopped their array of punches to fall into Booker’s chest. He held them close, as the two sunk to the floor, Oli shaking, Booker rocking them back and forth. “Du bist sicher. Du bist sicher. Du bist nicht alleine.”

After ten minutes, Oli’s breathing had steadied and was clutching onto his shirt. Booker leaned his cheek against Oli’s forehead, rubbing small circles on their back. Oli pulled back, pushing their hair out of their face. “I…”

“Let’s eat,” Booker smiled at them, tucking their hair behind their ear. Oli flinched slightly, but didn’t make a move to stop him. “Was that okay?”

“Yeah,” Oli nodded. “To both.”

Booker stood, dusting off his pants before offering Oli his hand. Oli grabbed it, letting him pull them up. Oli didn’t let go of his hand as they walked into the kitchen. Booker and Oli sat at the table, eating silently. When they finished, Booker brought the dishes to the sink, watching Oli out of the corner of his eye. Oli walked up to him, pulling the dagger out of their back pocket. 

“Where did you get that?” Booker frowned.

“You don’t survive all alone without knowing how to pickpocket or lie,” Oli smiled sadly, placing the dagger on the counter. “Will you wash it for me? It was my dad’s.”

“Your dad gave you a dagger and necklace?” Booker took the dagger and put it in the sink.

“Not exactly,” Oli leaned against the counter, facing out. “It was the only thing I had after the fire, only things I wanted. So I took them before the firefighters got there.”

“You disturb me a little,” Booker pulled up his sleeves and started to rinse the dagger.

“I know,” Oli smiled.

“If you ever feel like that again, you can tell me,” Booker rubbed at a spot. “I won’t ask questions. I got your back, Oli.”

“I know,” Oli rubbed the back of their neck. “I’m sorry.”

Booker reached out his hand to take theirs. “Don’t be.”

Oli looked uneasy. “But...I....”

Booker shook his head. “Oli, I betrayed my family for my pain-”

“Your reasoning is valid,” Oli interrupted.

“-and you punched me a few times. I can’t tell you how many times we’ve killed each other. When I joined them, I was constantly fighting with Joe. He decapitated me once, and I shot him in the head, and then Nicky stabbed me in the heart because I killed Joe.”

“What is wrong with you all?” Oli squinted at him. “You’re so violent.”

“Really?” Booker gave them a quizzical look. “You are very violent.”

“You’ve never seen me fight,” Oli wiped their wet hand off on their jeans as Booker continued to wash the dagger. 

Booker laughed. “I’ve seen your eyes, I don’t need to see you fight. Also you took a dagger from your dad at age five.”

“I accept your reasoning” Oli crossed their arms. “I reject your conclusion.”

Booker put the clean dagger on the opposite side of the sink, away from Oli. “Then you will reject many of my future conclusions.”

Oli smirked. “I look forward to it.”

Booker handed Oli a plate, who dried it, and followed Booker’s example earlier of searching the entire kitchen before finding the final cabinet.

“You should get some sleep,” Booker scrubbed the next plate. 

“I guess,” Oli walked towards the living room. “I’ll find some blankets.”

“I’ll probably go to bed later,” Booker called over his shoulder. “I’m going to do some research.”

“Okay,” Oli called. “Good night.”

“Good night,” Booker responded. 

Booker finished cleaning the kitchen, and went to go take a shower. When he got out, Oli was passed out on the couch under a heavy blanket. He smiled.

“Jesus, I miss my kids,” Booker whispered to the empty house. 

The bright lights of a car shining through the window. Booker went to the window, watching a man get out, examining the car Oli stole. The man grabbed a bag, pulling a gun shaped object out of it, slowly approaching the door. Booker heard the lock on the door click, preparing to take a bullet or the gun if given the chance. 

The door swung open, a man following, gun raised, covering the room, stopping on Booker. 

“Booker?” The gun lowered an inch, accompanied by an English accent. 

“Hi,” Booker waved awkwardly at the man.

Copley sighed, holstering his gun and closing the door. “Did you break into my house?”

“No,” Booker nodded his chin to the couch. “Oli did.”

“What?” Copley did a double take, walking towards the couch. “How...how did you find them?”

“It’s kinda complicated,” Booker followed him, reaching over the couch to adjust the blanket. “Also sorry, I’ll clean your bathroom.”

“What happened to my bathroom?” Copley put down his bag. 

“It may have a significant amount of blood staining the sink,” Booker put his hands in his back pockets. Copley sighed. 

“Come have a seat, Booker,” Copley walked towards his kitchen. “We can talk about it over tea.”

Booker followed. “Thank you.” He opened his mouth to ask for booze, but glanced back at Oli again. Booker decided against it, closing his mouth and joining Copley in the kitchen.

***

Nicky had to be hauled to the car. The group didn’t want to stick around, and Nicky was still healing. Nicky lay on the floor of the van, next to the crate of guns.

“How are you doing, Nicky?” Andy stared down at him. 

“Yeah, how’s it going back there?” Nile called back from the driver’s seat.

“I am almost healed,” Nicky said to the ceiling. “I am lying here and it’s oddly relaxing.”

“Sleep deprivation will do that to you,” Joe smiled down at his love. Nicky smiled back. 

“Don’t forget, we still have to drop this shipment off,” Andy nudged him with her foot. “Don’t doze off now.”

“Hey, when do I turn?” Nile glanced back. Andy smiled, and climbed into the passenger’s seat to direct her. 

Nicky sat up, leaning back on his hands. “When was the last time we were in Helsinki?” 

Joe shrugged. “27 years?”

“Ah yes, the tiger incident,” Nicky smirked.

“The tiger incident?” Nile looked back. “What’s this story?”

“Turn here,” Andy ignored the question, pointing. 

“Well, the tiger incident was an experience, to say the least,” Joe smiled. Andy snorted.

“There were no tigers.”

“Then why is it called the tiger incident?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Du bist sicher. Du bist sicher. Du bist nicht alleine." - You are safe. You are safe. You are not alone.


	14. Copley Learns the Whole Picture

Copley exhaled loudly, draining the rest of his tea. “Jesus.”

Booker fiddled with the paper on the edge of the tea bag string. “Yeah.”

“Don’t worry about the bathroom,” Copley said, staring into the bottom of his cup. “I’ll deal with it.”

“You don’t -”

“Booker.”

Booker met Copley’s eyes, dark and empathetic. “I will deal with the bathroom. You have dealt with enough blood for the last month.”

“Thank you,” Booker murmured, ducking his head. “I have to ask a favor.”

“Anything.”

“Where are they?”

Copley bit his lip, contemplating. Booker sighed, setting down his mug.

“I have to get Oli to them,” Booker murmured. “After that I will leave, but I have to do this.”

Copley stood abruptly. “Very well. Stay here.”

Booker watched as Copley briskly left the room as he disappeared up the stairs. He took the opportunity to check on Oli, who was sleeping deeply, curled up on the couch. Copley clomped down the stairs holding a file folder. He slid it over to Booker as he sat back down.

“I gave them a job,” Copley explained as Booker flipped through. “They were so engrossed in worrying about finding Oli, they needed something to do.”

Booker picked up a document, eyes speeding across the page. “Will they be staying nearby?”

“I’ve told them to recharge,” Copley shrugged. “So probably. Do they have a safehouse there?”

Booker glanced up at him, choosing to not answer the questions. “I need a flight to Helsinki and a car.”

Copley nodded. “I can do that.” He waited for Booker to close the file and push it back to him. “Do you want me to tell them?”

Booker shook his head. “According to this, it looks like a job that will take several days. I am not lost to the fact you probably denied to tell them that so they wouldn’t freak.” Copley smiled sheepishly. “Jobs are radio silence. By the time that ends, Oli and I will be out there.”

“Okay,” Copley pulled out his phone. “I’ll let you know when it’s done. You should get some sleep.”

“Fuck!” Booker and Copley turned to Oli, sitting up on the couch. 

“Nightmare?” Booker was out of his seat in an instant.

Oli nodded, swinging their legs to the ground. “Nothing new.” They looked up at him, and as if they could sense him, at Copley. “Copley?” They asked, not to him but rather at him. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Mx. Eben,” Copley noticed how the teen stiffened at their last name, but considered the prefix. “I must applaud you. You’re a hard person to find.”

“That’s the goal,” Oli hadn’t moved. They were just taking in Copley. “Have you slept yet?” They shifted to Booker.

“Was just about to,” Booker sat next to them. Oli pushed the blanket on to his lap, standing.

“Got anything to drink, Mr. Copley?” Oli swiveled their abdomen, sighing at the popping sound in their back. 

“Nothing that would be legal for you to consume,” He smiled, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. 

“Damn,” Oli cocked their head at him. “Got anything hot?”

“I have a diverse supply of teas,” Copley stood up.

“That’ll work,” Oli followed him to the kitchen. “Go to sleep, Booker.”

***

“What was that drop off?” Andy thrummed her thumbs against the steering wheel.

“A shit show!” Nile offered a little too readily.

Joe started laughing from the back seat. “You heard her, boss, it was a shitshow.”

“None of you are helpful,” Andy exclaimed, getting snickers in response. “You guys, seriously.”

“We finished the job,” Nicky’s voice floated up from the back. “We have a long drive ahead of us. Let’s not over analyze it.”

Andy nodded, succumbing to her team's wishes. “You’re right. Let’s go home.”


	15. So Close, Yet So Far

Oli decided they didn’t like flying. They practically flew off the plane, ironically. Booker was close behind. When they obtained the car, Oli’s fiddling slowed slightly, but not significantly. At least they had new clothes from Copley.

Booker walked up to the black Subaru 2018, eyes roaming the garage, uneasy with the amount of hiding spots. He increased his pace, noting when Oli did the same, their eyes darting back and forth. They got in the car almost as quickly as they got out of the plane. Booker started the car and pulled out of the garage, tapping his thumb impatiently on the side of the wheel. Oli stared at his thumb, bothered by the noise. He stopped and cleared his throat.  
“Look in my bag, side pocket.”

Oli squinted at him. “Why?”

“Just do it,” Booker shifted in his seat, glancing at his phone at the instructions.

Oli grumbled as they reached into the back seat, fishing around for the right thing. Their grumbling was cut short.

“Book…” Oli sat back in their seat, hands caressing the edges of the colored pencil box. “Are these...for me?”

Booker hummed affirmation.

“When did you get these?” Oli turned it in their hands, a smile threatening to pop out.

“The gas station.”

Oli’s eyes shone. “Vielen Dank!”

Booker held out a hand. Oli hesitated, but laced their fingers with his.

***

An hour later, they were still driving, joking and talking in a mixture of German and English. The road slowly became bumpier and bumpier, eventually turning into a dirt road. The conversation faded to silence as Oli admired the foliage in the dark night sky. 

Booker gazed at them fondly, admiring their childlike wonder.

“Where are we going?” Oli’s question snapped him out of his reverie. 

“There’s a small turnoff up ahead,” Booker looked back to the road. “It’s overgrown, not easy to find, but it leads to a long-ish road that leads to one of our...their safehouses.”

Oli nodded, leaning their forehead against the window.

The night provided cover. Neither of them saw the entities slipping silently through the trees, waiting at the edges of the roads.

The leaves rustled as they took their positions.

Booker turned into the turnoff, a small smile across his features as the road started to clear, tracks in the road from another car. Booker thought he saw something in the undergrowth move, but dismissed it. _You’re tired and stressed and it’s the middle of the night in the middle of nowhere. It’s probably just a small animal._ Booker increased the speed by a few miles per hour, knowing his caution was not unfounded. He opened his mouth to warn Oli, but was cut off by an explosion, flipping the car off the road down the steep hill, towards the river. 

***

_CRASH!_

“Dammit,” Nile bent down to pick up the broken pieces of the plate. “Sorry.”

Nicky bent down to help her. “It’s just a plate, do not worry about it.”

Joe smiled at her from the sink. “I’ll get the broom.”

“Thanks, guys.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Vielen Dank!" - Many thanks


	16. The River is Loud

Booker groaned, struggling to open the door. He fell onto the ground, coughing. “ _Oli._ ” He rasped, staggering past the tree the car was smashed into. Booker retched the door open, and pulled Oli off the metal spike driven into their stomach. Booker tentatively propped them up on the tree, then wiggled the bags out of the back. He dropped them on the ground, tearing them open and pulling out a Beretta ARX-160 and a .44 Magnum.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Booker could hear the foliage being moved by quickly moving bodies. He grabbed Oli’s bag and shuffled over to them as they gasped to life. “Shh, shh, shh.”

Oli nodded, taking the bag and .44 from him. 

“Befolgen der Fluss. Laufen durch den toten Weinburg und du wirst das Haus finden,” He whispered, preparing his weapon for a fight.

“Nein.” Booker’s head shot up. “Ich verlasse dich nicht.”

“Ja, du ist,” Booker hissed at them. “Sie haben noch viele Jahre zu kämpfen. Mach dir keine Sorgen, ich komme.” Booker pushed Oli away from the car. “Oli, e hele!”

Oli gave him one more look as they started to run, pulling the bag onto their shoulders. Booker spun around as they disappeared into the trees, gun raised.

Oli heard a declaration in French fading as they ran.

The river was so loud, it covered the sound of gunshots and yelling.

***

Booker managed to dispose of a significant amount of assailants before dying the first time. Luckily, he came back so quick they barely had time to react.

Booker stumbled down the road, his Beretta abandoned, now left with a glock. He cursed. He was covered in blood and dirt and he wanted to sleep but he couldn’t stop, not until they were safe. 

As he ran up the road, twisting and turning, he finally caught sight of the cottage. The lights were on, and there was a car out front. _Thank Jesus._ He sprinted the rest of the way, slowing only to barge through the door, gun loaded and ready.

His family was there, alarmed and confused, jumping up. _His family was there._ He glanced around the cottage, lowering his gun slightly.

wounds, ones the group watched knit back together. 

“What happened to you? Why are you here?” Joe said to him. Andy held her hand up, telling him ‘be quiet’. 

“Where’s Oli?” Booker asked, lowering his gun. He wasn’t concerned in the slightest about Joe's questions. He had to make sure Oli was safe. 

“Oli’s with you? How did you find them before Copley?” Nicky took a step closer to Andy, as if to protect her, even though he knew she would hate it.

“They’re not here,” Booker’s face drained of all color. Andy locked eyes with him, and felt a rush of fear. He turned and ran out the door, the rest following, trying to piece together what was happening. 

“Why would they be here? Booker?!” Nile yelled after him, checking her clip. Andy grabbed her axe, catching Joe’s eyes. He gave her a quizzical look, before it dawned on him. “Shit,” he whispered.

“Oli?!” Booker looked around frantically, gun at the ready outside the cottage. The group tensed, Nile walking slowly out of the small cottage towards him.

From the vineyard they heard a scream of pain, “BOOK!”, and a gunshot, followed by an unsettling silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Befolgen den Fluss. Laufen durch den toten Weinburg und du wirst das Haus finden." - Follow the river. Run through the dead vineyard and you will find the house.  
> "Ich verlasse dich nicht" - I am not leaving you.  
> "Ja, du ist. Sie haben noch viele Jahre zu kämpfen. Mach dir keine Sorgen, ich komme." - Yes, you are. You have many more years to fight. Don't worry, I'm coming.  
> "E hele!" - Go (Hawaiian)
> 
> My apologies again for the improper German!


	17. Sollen wir tanzen?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The amount posted and frequency may wane a little. It took me a month to write everything I have currently, and I'm not even done. I will do my best to keep up with a consistent posting schedule!

Booker didn’t have as sharp a memory as Oli would have thought. Booker had told them to follow the river until they reached the vineyard, as if it would be easy to spot. But the river banks were overgrown and unkempt making it hard to find, and the vineyard was dead, nature slowly creeping back in between the trees. Oli could see why Booker would have loved the place, as he seemed to drown himself in alcohol whenever possible, but clearly not enough to know that the vineyard was no longer a vineyard.

Oli followed the river as the gunshots and screams slowly faded, the bag bouncing against their back, the rushing water splashing against their legs, the mud squelching beneath their feet. Oli ran past the vineyard, and spent five minutes they didn’t have to waste backtracking, tromping through the shrubbery. They ran through the old trees, uneasy with the amount of open space. After a few minutes of running, Oli noticed an out of control hedge, and just behind it, a car parked in front of a small cottage. Oli made the mistake of slowing down to celebrate a victory not yet won.

The men were on them before they could react. Oli opened their mouth to yell, but instead was tackled to the ground. They fought back, headbutting the man on top of them, trying to grab their gun, only for it to be kicked away. No matter how many men Oli seemed to knock down, they just kept coming. After a few minutes, they tazed Oli, allowing them to grab them easily, and bind their wrists in zip ties. 

There was noise on the road, and the men pulled Oli into the shadows, disappearing as quickly as they had appeared. Oli gasped as Booker stumbled up the road, gun at the ready. Oli went to yell only to have a hand cover their mouth. Oli struggled, trying to make enough motion Booker would notice, but he didn’t, instead focusing on barging into the cottage with the gun raised. Oli relaxed a little, as he had kept his promise, and at the same time realized he wouldn’t be able to see them through the hedge. _Fuck,_ Oli thought, studying these new captors, no doubt working for the same people as before, _Fuck all of this._

 _BAM!_ The door to the cottage slammed open again, Booker running out, searching frantically for Oli with his eyes. Oli noticed a young woman, but who knew her age she was probably immortal too, standing next to Booker with a gun. Past them, were three silhouettes in the light of the open door, and one of them was holding...an axe?

“Oli!” Booker screamed, snapping them out of their reverie.

Oli felt a newborn vigor rush through them as they bit down hard on the hand silencing them, giving them a way to react to dislocating their thumbs. The body the hand was attached to pulled away and cried out in pain, allowing for Oli to pull their hands out of the zip ties just before they snapped back into place. Oli winced, managing to get, “BOOK!” out before a gun was thrust in their face. 

They heard the gunshot before they knew they reacted. Oli was standing, pushing the gun above their shoulder with their forearm. They saw an opportunity.

Oli took the gun with force, grabbed the knife from the man’s belt, twisted their arm around his trapping it, and stabbed him in the throat. His blood spewed against Oli’s face. Oli didn’t take the knife, just watched him fall. _Good riddance._

The cocking of a gun alerted Oli of the armed arsenal behind them. Oli slowly turned to look at the mercenaries, staring daggers into them, especially the man who Oli bit.

“Sorry?” Oli grabbed the gun they dropped and sprinted past the hedge, back to Booker’s line of site, cursing at how far away the cottage was. The lines on his face softened a little, but only hardened again upon seeing and hearing Oli’s tail.

“Get back inside,” One of the men in the doorway said to the woman with the axe. _Nicky_. Oli recognized them now. And the one next to Booker was Nile. The immortals they had dreamed of, and Booker had gushed about.

“Make me,” _Andy_ shot back. Oli had crossed half the vineyard when the ground in front of them was torn to shred by bullets. _Sniper._ But where? Before Oli could locate him, his bullet tore through their shoulder. _Shit._

Oli ran backwards, evading the mercenaries best they could, putting a barrier between them and the sniper. Oli highly doubted the sniper was good enough to hit them through the mercenaries, not that it mattered. Nicky was given a gun by... _Joe?_ And had pinpointed his location. 

Oli looked at the gun, then emptied the clip into six mercenaries. The mercenaries stopped their advances, caught off guard as their comrades fell. Oli could see behind the immortals behind them, alarmed.

One of the mercenaries started to laugh. “You think you can beat us without a gun? Even with your friends -”

“I don’t need their help,” Oli interrupted. “I’ve had a fight building in me for a while.”

“Oli -” Booker cautioned. Oli waved his words away.

“Shut up, I’m a teenager, I make bad decisions,” Oli braced themselves as the mercenaries lifted their guns. Oli felt a twinge of nostalgia, before repeating the words they had been taught to say before each fight by a cheeky German Jew. “Sollen wir tanzen?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Sollen wir tanzen?" - shall we dance?


	18. One Hell of an Introduction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: Graphic violence

Oli heard a shot, and a thump as the sniper problem was resolved. They smirked, turning their attention to the ten men still in front of them, all of them with automatic assault rifles. They ran.

They took another bullet to the shoulder, but quickly slammed the gun into his face. Oli ducked, allowing for one man to take out another, and stabbed the first man in the ribs, sending him to the ground.  _ Two down. _ Oli stood and threw the knife, which lodged itself in the chest of another.  _ Three.  _ They spun around, turning perpendicular to another, bracing his arm against their torso, and snapping it, causing him to drop the gun. He cried out in pain. Oli took the same arm and twisted it around his back, pushing him forward to take the bullets of his comrade.  _ Four. _ They dropped the now dying man, punching his comrade in the throat, ducking the bullets of another to grab their dagger.  _ Five. _ Oli jumped effortlessly onto the next man, swinging around to his back, wrapping their legs around his waist and smashing the dagger into the side of his throat. _ Six.  _ Oli peeled off the man, doing a back bridge as he fell, using their moving legs to kick the gun out of number seven’s hands. They wasted no time to turn, grab his shoulder and wrist, put their foot on his hip, and fall backward with all their body weight. The Tomoe Nage Takedown left them on top of the man, pinning down his hand with their foot. Oli grabbed the man’s head and broke his neck.  _ Seven.  _ Oli looked around, noting the other threes spread out position as they removed their dagger from number six. They smiled.

Oli watched as one man foolishly ran towards them, easily evading his blows. He was yelling as he tried to hit them with the back of the gun, his finger hovering over the trigger. His attempted hit had left the barrel close to his head. Oli simply repositioned it.  _ Eight. _

Oli grunted as a bullet entered their thigh. They weren’t sure which of the remaining had done it, both their weapons were raised. It was an easy fix. Oli picked up the small pistol on number eight’s belt.

Oli rolled on the ground to the right, emptying the clip into the left man. Aim was not easy when moving, but at least one of six should hit it’s target. The one on the right still had his gun pointed at where Oli used to be. They stayed on the ground, stabbing his knees. He cursed, dropping his gun while Oli stood. He threw a sad punch. Oli grabbed his fist, twisted his arm to the right, and flipped upside down to capture his head between their legs as they both fell to the ground. Oli took their foot and kicked his head, hearing the snap.  _ And that's 10. _

Oli untangled themself, dusting themself off. They did a full 360, making sure they hadn’t missed anyone. They looked at the cottage, and almost laughed out loud.

“What the fuck,” Nile whispered, the others looking equally unsettled. Oli started to walk past the bodies, stopping only at one to pick up the bag he had been holding. When they stood, they cried out in pain. Booker started towards them.

“You’re still alive?” Oli turned to number one, whose gun was shaking in his hands. Oli pressed a hand to their ribs where the bullet was. The man coughed, blood trickling out of his mouth as he dropped his gun and went still.

Oli sighed, wiping their hands on their pants. They shouldered their bag as Booker reached them. He put his hand on their face. “Are you ok?”

Oli nodded, holding his wrist. They pushed their foreheads together, closing their eyes momentarily. Booker withdrew. “Come on, we gotta go.” 

As they made their way over to the group, Oli slid the dagger back into their coat. Andy studied the teen as she opened the driver’s door.  _ That was one hell of an introduction, kid. _


	19. Together At Last

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: Mentions of suicide

The car was not meant to sit six people. Andy was driving, chewing on her lip. Joe was sitting up front with Andy, which everyone was agreed was for the best. Nicky was sitting behind Andy without a seatbelt, to try and give Nile more room, but she was still squished between him and Booker. Oli had been sitting on Booker’s lap, looking uncomfortable, but quickly after they left fell asleep, curled into Booker like a little kid. Nicky examined the two noting the gentleness of Booker, his arms wrapped around Oli protectively. They were both dirty and covered in blood. They looked tired, like they had fought the world, and the world won.

The team was a little perturbed at the absolute chaos Oli had released only a few minutes prior. 

Andy made eye contact with Booker in the mirror, a look that clearly said, “Talk.”

Booker sighed, and looked out the window, careful not to jostle Oli. “Quynh’s back.”

The car screeched to a stop, Nicky slamming into the back of Andy’s seat. Andy whipped around, almost colliding with Joe as he did the same.

“I don’t know for how long,” Booker leaned against the headrest. “She came and found me in London a month and a half ago. When we started dreaming of Oli, she went after them.”

No one spoke. Booker waited for questions, but none came.

“I don’t know what she was like before, but she’s different from whatever you knew,” Booker watched Nicky slide back into his seat sheepishly. “She’s out of that coffin but she’s still being tortured. She feels nothing and everything at the same time.”

“Why did she come for you?” Nicky clicked his seatbelt. “If Quynh wants revenge, it would make more sense to come after us. She knows us.”

“I was alone, an easy target,” Booker adjusted Oli, careful not to wake them. “She’s coming after all of us. She wants...validation. She wants something...raw.”

Andy turned around to keep her team from seeing the emotions flash through her. She grabbed the steering wheel, her knuckles white. Andy took a deep breath, then started the car.

“Andy, I can drive.” Joe was ignored.

No one spoke, trying to process what Booker said. Oli whimpered and shivered, wincing in their sleep. Booker responded immediately, like a father, bringing his hand up to stroke Oli’s hair, murmuring sweet nothings to them in German. After a moment, Oli quieted, relaxing back against Booker’s chest. He sighed, as if Oli’s discomfort caused him stress, rubbing at the dried blood behind his ear. 

“Did Quynh do something to you two?” Nile looked at the teen, their Star of David catching her eye, still glinting under a layer of grime. “Or should I be asking what?”

“Quynh has spent her time killing us,” Booker was so ready to sleep. 

“We should have dreamed of it, at least for Oli,” Joe turned, frowning. “They must have hid behind the memories.”

Booker smirked. “Oli’s good at deflecting. Didn’t know it extended to dreams too.”

Joe paused for a moment. “How...how have they been dealing with the dreams?

“They’re used to it. I think they are relieved they don’t have to keep seeing Quynh drown anymore,” Booker looked at Joe, not surprised by his alarm. “They’ve been dreaming of us for six years.”

“Why haven’t we dreamed of them?” Nicky glanced at Joe. He supposed Oli was keeping Joe in line emotionally. Despite Joe’s apparent concern for Booker, he was still clearly upset. He did have a soft spot for kids. “How old were they?”

“I think it’s because this was the first time they were killed by someone else,” Booker shrugged, immediately regretting moving Oli. “They were nine when the dreams started.”

“Wait, that means that they killed themself,” Nile eyes widened. “If this was the first time they were killed by someone else, and we start dreaming on our first resurrection...Oli killed themself when they were nine?”

Booker nodded, his eyes solemn. Nile sat back, stunned. The rest of the car ride was silent.


	20. The Car

The car ride was long. Booker didn’t even know where they were anymore. The group unloaded the car, except for Joe, who started rummaging through the pantry immediately to make the two additions dinner. Booker gingerly picked Oli up. He brought them to the couch, gently laying them down. Booker stared at the kid, kissing them on the temple before leaving to help. He passed Nile in the doorway, turning back to glance at them. When Nile caught his eyes, he gave her a sad smile.

When the group was settled, Nicky helped Joe cook, and Andy wet a washcloth. She handed it to Booker, and he nodded his thanks, bringing the cloth to his face. He fell into a seat at the table, where he could keep an eye on Oli and the door. 

“Should we wake them up? They probably want to clean up,” Nile handed him a glass of water, sliding into the seat next to him. 

“No,” Booker took a sip, grateful the water was going down the right pipe. He halfheartedly wiped the cloth on his face. “This is the longest they’ve slept without waking up from nightmares. We’ll wake them when the food is ready.”

“This is sad, I can’t sit here and watch,” Nile grabbed the cloth from Booker, tilting his face towards her. She started wiping the blood and dirt off his face. 

“Thank you,” Booker murmured. The five of them fell into a comfortable silence, Joe and Nicky buzzing around the kitchen, Andy standing off to the side, staring at Oli.

Nicky was the first to break it, his tone conversational. “Is Oli from Germany?”

Booker turned to him, Nile throwing up her hands in defeat, going to rinse out the washcloth. “No, but their dad was. Oli was born in Kaunakakai.”

“Where’s that?” Joe stirred the pot, glancing at Booker. 

“Hawai’i,” Booker took another sip of his water. “They were moved to O’ahu when they were five.”

“That explains the language I didn’t recognize,” Nile handed him the wash cloth again. “In the dreams,” she clarified at Booker’s confusion.

“Yeah,” Booker rubbed the cloth on the back of his neck. “They speak five languages, with some broken pieces of others.”

“How did they learn five languages?” Joe turned to look at the sleeping teen, brow furrowed.

“Oli lived in an orphanage run by a small church just outside the city. Lots of kids from lots of places were there. And they’ve been traveling across Europe for five years.” Booker shivered. “Oli hasn’t talked much about it, but I looked into the other night while Oli was driving. That kid’s been through more than most people will go through in an entire lifetime.”

“Oli’s not old enough to drive,” Nicky sounded amused as he handed Joe an open can, which was added to the pot.

“Oli already knew how to drive when I met them,” Booker smirked. “Almost crashed a couple times, but that’s how Joe drives, so…”

Nicky snickered. Joe hit him on the head with an oven mitt.

“They know how to fight,” Andy downed her drink. “I’m impressed. Not many 15 year olds can kick ass like Oli did.”

“Dinner’s ready,” Joe announced, grabbing bowls. Andy helped him fill them. Nile pulled Booker up, pushing him towards the bathroom. 

“Get cleaned up, then eat,” Nile smiled at him, and Booker couldn’t help but smile genuinely back. 

“Oli, food is ready,” Nicky knelt down, and gently shook Oli’s shoulder. “Oli, wake up.”

“Nicky, don’t -” Booker rushed towards the couch as Oli’s eyes flew open, while they simultaneously whipped out their hidden dagger from their coat and pressed it against Nicky’s throat. Nicky fell back, surprised. Joe shouted in alarm, his hand looking for his gun, which he had placed on the table.

“Shit, sorry,” Oli dropped the dagger onto the ground, pushing themself up to a sitting position. “I didn’t mean -”

“It’s alright,” Nicky smiled kindly at the teen, handing the dagger back to them. Oli slid it into their coat, avoiding Nicky’s eyes. 

“I should have warned you,” Booker put a hand on the back of the couch. “Don’t wake Oli up before taking the dagger out of their coat.”

Oli looked up at Nicky, only to glance away again, focusing on their hands on their lap. Nicky slowly brought his hand into Oli’s field of vision, before gently touching their knee. Oli seemed surprised, and met Nicky’s eyes. He smiled with a kindness Oli hadn’t seen in a long time. “Come, eat. Dinner’s ready.”


	21. A Home of Sorts

After the dagger incident had been resolved, and Oli was sitting at the table with a bowl of food, Booker walked off to the bathroom. As soon as he closed the door, he stripped and got in the shower.

He lost track of time, letting the warm water run over him. The water came down on him clear, but went down the drain pink. He rubbed at his skin until it was raw, but at least it wasn’t bloody anymore. 

He remembered that Oli was going to have to clean up, and quickly finished up. He realized he didn’t have new clothes, but when he looked he saw new, clean ones waiting for him. _Andy’s doing, no doubt,_ Booker smiled to himself.

He deserved a sentence of a century, but he liked being home. It felt good to be with his family, no matter how short lived it was. After they dealt with Quynh, Oli would go with them, and Booker would be all alone again. _Enjoy it while it lasts._

Booker exited the small bathroom, throwing his towel in the laundry basket, and sauntered out to the smell of heavenly food. As he walked back into the kitchen, the team paid him little mind, instead focusing on Oli. Joe was watching them with a cautious expression, and Booker noticed he was sitting between Oli and Nicky. _Always the protective one._

He walked behind Oli to the stove, the only indication he was there was a squeak in the floorboards. Oli startled, throwing him a look of annoyance. Booker mouthed an apology, sitting at the other end of the table. 

“It’s like a rowboat,” Oli continued, looking back at Joe. “Whether you like someone or not, there’s no place to go, so most people just figure out how to tolerate each other.”

“What do you miss the most? Our homes have been lost to time, but Booker says you were trying to get back to yours,” Nicky glanced at Booker, but he was too engrossed in eating to notice.

“The colors,” Oli rubbed at an invisible scar across their wrist absentmindedly. “And the heat. I don’t know. It’s been a long time since anywhere was really my home. Hawai’i is beautiful, but it’s not perfect. I think I was just trying to go back cause it’s what I knew. I...I don’t really know if that’s the good idea anymore.”

Booker looked at the teen, trying to figure out why they were opening up so easy. They locked eyes, and then Booker understood. Their eyes were guarded. Despite Nicky’s friendly and kind personality, Oli wasn’t ready to open up to them like they had Booker, and they had probably done that for survival’s sake. Oli was giving them just enough information to seem engaged, but was deflecting, filling the space with useless words. 

“Shower’s all yours,” Booker looked down at his bowl. “Be careful with your necklace.”

“Thanks,” Oli stood, bringing their bowl to the sink. “I won’t take as long as you.”

“I don’t know,” Booker replied with a teasing tone, raising one eyebrow. “You’re even dirtier than me.” He winced internally at the comment now that he knew Oli's past, but they seemed to pay it no mind.

Oli scoffed, and murmured, “Männer. So schmutzig gesinnt. Ich bin fünfzehn Jahre alt, ich bin nicht geschlechtsreif, ungleich dich.”

“What are you suggesting?” Booker leaned back, trying not to smile.

Oli smirked as they started towards the bathroom. “Du bist ein Hurenbock!”

“What did they say?” Nile looked at Andy, ignoring Joe and Nicky’s snickers. 

“Oli called him a man slut,” Andy smiled. She turned to Booker with a glint in her eye. “I like them.”

***

The group soon settled in for a long night. Andy determined it was safe for at least one night, and it was unlikely someone would come after them again. Joe and Nicky slept together, as always, and Andy and Booker shared a bed, pressed back to back. Nile was asleep in the bed next to him, facing the door, and behind her Oli was tucked. 

Booker felt guilty. After Oli had gotten out of the shower, Joe and Nicky and Booker had startled them at least five times. Joe had sent Booker a questioning look, but he didn’t know how to explain why the three of them kept surprising Oli, even when they knew the men were there.

Nicky was making good headway, though. Nicky continued throughout the night to make Oli as comfortable as he could, offering clothes, supporting words, and stories when Oli didn’t want to answer any more questions, making the teen smile. Joe soon softened towards Oli, and helped them deep clean their Star of David before bed. Booker could hear them quietly conversing in German, something that clearly helped Oli relax. Oli had even laughed once during the conversation, something Booker hadn’t heard them do before. It was quiet and sweet. It seemed that German was their fall back language, despite English being their first. It was comforting for them.

Booker watched Nile’s chest rise and fall slowly, and beyond her, Oli’s chest. Their breathing wasn’t labored, or rushed, it was slow and calm. 

Booker fell asleep content.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Männer. So schmutzig gesinnt. Ich bin fünfzehn Jahre alt. Ich bin nicht geschlectsreif, ungleich dich." - Men. So dirty minded. I am 15 years old. I am not sexually mature, unlike you.  
> "Du bist ein Hurenbock!" - You are a manslut!


	22. Dreamland Horrors

_“Oli,” the darkness shook, accompanied by a quiet voice. “Oli, it is time to awaken.”_

_Oli opened an eye, met with the face of two smiling eyes peering over the edge of the mattress. They sat up and rubbed their eyes, yawning._

_“Papa, wieviel Uhr ist es?” Oli slipped into German, though they would soon slip into their own dialect of German, Hawaiian, and English. “Hola ‘ehia?”_

_Papa’s eyes sparkled. “Es ist St. Nikolaus tag, Oli!”_

_Oli gasped, giggling as their father swept them out of bed and into their arms. “Ich liebe dich,” Oli held onto their father tightly._

_“Und ich liebe dich mehr,” Papa smiled at the child._

_Something was...wrong. “Papa?” Oli wriggled in his arms, trying to get down, but they were trapped. Papa’s eyes were an empty void, and instead of his warm smile, it was the smile of Father Jim._

_Papa peeled away to show Father Jim, who held on so tight it hurt. Oli tried to scream but no sound came out. Father Jim dropped Oli, but instead of hitting the floor, they fell a long way to the bottom of a box. It felt like they were at the bottom of a well. Father Jim winked at Oli, before closing the box, hiding them from the light, sending them into pitch black._

_Oli heard the click of a lock._

_Oli clawed at the walls, begging to be let out, but no one came._

_The silence became too loud._

_They started to bang their head against the stone._

_The silence swallowed them like a wave._

***

Oli jolted awake, breathing heavily. They slowly sat up, relieved they had not woken Nile. Oli took a deep breath, hating how their body shivered and quaked with it. Oli knew they wouldn’t go back to sleep that night.

Oli stood rather precariously on the mattress, stepping lightly over Nile and through the doorway, careful not to wake anyone. They grabbed their notebook and a pen, sitting at the window seat across the small house, looking up at the moon before opening to a new page. 

***

Nile woke up cold. She was dazed as she woke from her sleep, trying to figure out what was out of place. She could see the team asleep in front of her. So what was missing? Nile turned to check on Oli, only to realize Oli wasn’t there. Nile jumped up, grabbing a gun, putting it away when she looked out the doorway.

Oli was sitting at the window seat, cross legged, a few small strands of hair falling in front of their eyes. A small, leather bound journal was sitting in their lap, and the moonlight highlighted their olive skin and soft features.

Nile quietly stepped out of the bedroom, walking into the kitchen slowly. “Hey.”

Oli looked away from the window, offering Nile a small smile. _Wow, they really are beautiful. Nothing like me when I was 15._

“Whatcha doing?” Nile took two glasses down from the cupboard and started to fill them with water.

“Watching the stars,” Oli watched, no, examined Nile, as she walked over.

“May I join you?” Oli nodded, shifting their position so Nile could sit. Nile handed them a glass of water, getting a murmured ‘thank you’ in return. The two drank in silence for several minutes before Nile’s curiosity got the best of her.

“What’s your favorite constellation?”

“I’m not sure,” Oli shrugged. “The constellations are different here. Harder to see. Back home there isn’t this much light pollution.” They turned away from the window. “Did I wake you?”

“No,” Nile shook her head profusely. “I just woke up ‘cause my body told me too.” Oli nodded, turning back to the window. “Why are you awake?”

Oli didn’t respond. After 15 seconds, Nile started to wonder if Oli had heard her. She was pondering asking again when Oli brought her out of her thoughts. “Just a nightmare.”

Nile could empathize with that. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Oli took a sip of water. “I suppose that would be a better coping mechanism then what I used to do.”

“What did you used to do?” Nile asked cautiously.

“I used to kill myself,” Oli said nonchalantly, as if it wasn’t a big deal. “Over and over and over again. But every time, I woke back up.” 

“What changed?” Nile hoped she wasn’t overstepping.

Oli smiled sadly. “After awhile you get tired of throwing yourself off buildings and you just want to go home.”

“Can...can I ask you something?” Nile was having a little trouble processing the last sentence that came out of Oli’s mouth.

“Sure,” Oli’s eyes had let down their guard. They seemed to know exactly what Nile wanted to ask.

“What...what happened with the orphanage?”

Oli looked down. Even though Oli knew that was coming, it still didn’t hit them any less hard. 

“My mom died when I was less than a year old. My dad died when I was five. He was my connection to my mom and her language and her culture, and that’s why we stayed in Hawai’i even after my mom died,” Oli took a deep breath, and locked eyes with Nile. “After he died, I went to go live in a small orphanage near O’ahu. It was run by the Catholic Church. And...let’s just say that experience has thoroughly convinced me not to convert to Catholicism.” Oli looked at the cross on Nile’s neck. “Sorry.”

“None taken.” Nile offered a smile. Oli seemed to need it. “The church has its problems, I won’t lie. But not everyone is like that.”

“I know,” Oli said quietly, defeated. “They didn’t like me very much, so I guess I just expect that from everyone now.”

Nile regretted using a ‘but’ sentence. “Why didn’t they like you?” Nile had spent less than a day with Oli, but they seemed like a calm, interesting person. They were very likeable.

Oli snorted into their glass as they took another sip. “I’m a Jewish kid who didn’t conform to their cisgender heteronormative ideals who fought back, disobeyed the rules at every chance I got and broke curfew almost every night. They hated me.”

Nile smiled. Oli definitely had a fighting spirit. “Do you still believe?”

Oli gave Nile a blank look. “In what?”

Nile shrugged. “Your religion. I mean, you do wear a Star of David.”

Oli sighed. “I don’t know what to believe anymore.” They paused, searching for the right words. “This necklace was my dad’s, and I guess I’m just not ready to let that part of me go yet.”

Nile could see Oli was tired from their short conversation, and decided not to push it. The two youngest of the group sat in the window seat, simply enjoying the company until they finished their water, and Nile was able to coax Oli back to sleep.

***

Andy was always a light sleeper, and woke when Oli padded out of the room like a cat. She was still awake when Nile followed them.

While she couldn’t make out all of the conversation, since the two were talking quietly, something Andy appreciated, she figured out most of it. 

Andy was still awake when Nile managed to get Oli to go asleep again.

Andy was still awake an hour later. She stared at the ceiling, thinking. 

Thinking about Quynh.

Andy got up, slipped her jacket on, grabbed a gun and her phone. She paused at the door, glancing back at her family. She spent a few seconds studying everyone, from Joe and Nicky, to Booker, to Nile and Oli. “Fuck,” Andy whispered.

Andy pulled out her phone, arranged for the text to be sent when the sun came up, and typed it out. She hesitated before pressing enter, then left her phone on the table next to the couch. Andy then left, knowing if she stayed any longer she wouldn’t have. And Andy needed to do this.

As the door shut soundlessly, and Andy's footstep faded, her phone was still on, it’s bright screen projecting light onto the ceiling. 

_Don’t come find me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Wieviel Uhr ist es?" - what time is it (German)  
> "Hola 'ehia?" - what time is it (Hawaiian)  
> "Es ist St. Nikolaus tag," - It is St. Nikolaus day!  
> "Ich liebe dich!" - I love you  
> "Und ich leibe dich mehr," - And I love you more


	23. Fight Your Demons and Lose

Andy pulled up to the old building, ran down and crumbled. The roof had caved in partially, and the windows were shattered with glass littering the ground. It crunched against Andy’s boots as she walked towards the door.

Andy saw a small light from the doorway. It looked like a candle. Andy stepped around the broken door hanging off the hinges. Andy took slow steps, hand hovering over her gun, eyes glued to the figure leaned over the table, their silhouette outlined by the soft glow by the almost dying candle next to them.

“Quynh?”

The woman stiffened, and rose to a straightened posture. She didn’t turn to Andy, but there was no doubt. It was her.

“Oh my god,” Andy whispered, her hand slipping away from her gun. “It’s...you.”

“Hello Andromache,” Quynh’s voice was cold as steel. Andy’s breath hitched at the name. 

“It’s...b-b-been a wh-wh-while,” Andy stuttered.

“500 years.”

“I...how…” Andy hated how her voice quivered. She swallowed. “Why?”

Quynh turned her head to the candle, hovering her hand over the flame. Andy lurched forward, but stopped herself. Quynh didn’t even seem to notice the blisters forming on her palm.

“How did you find me?” Quynh’s voice was quiet, but piercing. “It took you a day to find me here, but 500 there.”

“What are you doing?” Andy’s tone was pleading her to stop. 

“It’s a grounding exercise,” Quynh pulled her hand away and placed it flat on the table. “Extreme hot and cold. However, I believe most people do it with an ice cube.”

Andy tried to move around the table to face Quynh, but her legs were like steel beams in the floor. She took a deep breath. “How long?”

Quynh solved her problem by turning to face Andy. She hadn’t aged a day. “Five years.”

Andy’s vision started to close, but she fought to keep it open. She bit down on her tongue, the pain snapping her back. “Five...years?”

“When I got out all I did was sleep and eat,” Quynh turned back to the table, unconcerned. “And then, I learned. No,” she shook her head with a dry chuckle. “I evolved.”

Andy saw her hand drift across the table, hovering a few inches away from a hunting knife.

“I waited,” Quynh gritted her teeth. “ _For 500 years_. Only to find out, you stopped looking!” Quynh grabbed the knife, and started toward Andy, closing the gap. In Andy’s stupor, Quynh knocked the gun out of her hand easily, pushed her up against a wall with the knife to her throat. “I thought you loved me.”

“I do,” Andy murmured.

“Then why did you stop looking?!” Quynh’s eyes were feral. _Book wasn’t kidding,_ Andy thought. When Andy stayed quiet, Quynh’s eyes hardened and she pressed the knife harder to Andy’s throat, threatening to draw blood. Andy’s eyes widened. “Maybe you need to feel as hopeless as I did before I died. Maybe you need to feel that pain from someone you love.”

“Quynh, you can’t,” Andy’s tall frame had shrunk down to Quynh’s size, scared. “I’m mortal.”

Quynh blinked, then laughed, not releasing Andy. “Yeah, sure.”

“Quynh,” Andy’s voice was more commanding as she grabbed Quynh’s wrist.

Quynh's shit-eating grin fell off her face. “Wait, you’re...you aren’t joking.” Quynh stared, suddenly lacking any emotion at all. 

As Quynh released her, Andy’s hand immediately flew to her neck, tracing the indent in her skin. “I’m sorry.”

“First, you give up on me, and now you’re leaving me?!” Quynh screamed at Andy, hands clutching her face. “No, no, no, no, no, no,” Quynh staggered back to the table. “You...you promised we would go together.”

“After your little stunt with Booker and Oli, we wouldn’t have anyway,” Andy picked up her gun and pointed it at Quynh. “How could you?”

“Booker needed to pay,” Quynh leaned heavily on the table as if she was about to collapse. 

“Because of Merrick?” Andy inched closer.

“Because he replaced me!” Quynh grabbed the candle and threw it at Andy, who dodged. “And then when I found out what he did, I-I-I blew him up with a grenade. He _hurt_ you. Only I was supposed to do that, not him!”

“And what about Oli?” Andy yelled, walking towards the door as the candle ignited a pile of wood that used to be the roof. “They had nothing to do with it!”

“No,” Quynh stared into the flames. “But I knew you would dream of them. And I hate you, Andromache.”

Andy stood dumbstruck at the doorway, gun still trained on Quynh. 

“I have no use for someone who will stay dead!” Quynh screeched at Andy. “Now leave, or I’ll kill you before the fire.”

Andy ran to the car, and slammed the gas pedal down, a single tear slipping down her cheek as her world went up in flames.

***

“We have to go after her!” Nile argued. “It’s been two days.”

“I’m not disagreeing with you, I think we need to take some time to come up with a plan,” Nicky was being stubborn.

“She’s mortal now, she could be dead if we wait,” Nile couldn’t believe how calm everyone was. “She’s clearly gone after Quynh.”

Oli was perched on the counter, staring at their hands. They looked up at Nile. “If Andy’s been alive for six thousand years, she’s not gonna let herself die.”

“Yes, but Quynh will open up centuries of emotions,” Joe sipped his coffee. “She’s not mentally prepared for this.”

“We need to follow her,” Booker added from the side of the room. “I spent a month and a half with Quynh, and she had never met me. No matter what Andy is capable is, the amount of rage Quynh is deadly.”

Oli hopped off the counter. “So we go find her.”

“How?” Nicky rubbed his eyes. “She left her phone and we have no way of tracking her.”

“Not completely true,” The room turned to look at Booker. “The last time Quynh killed me...she told me she wouldn’t have gotten to where she was without learning to use a computer.”

“And she clearly has a large array of contacts,” Joe tapped his fingers on his mug. “Can’t do that these days without a phone.”

“Which means she probably carries hers with her,” Booker slid into the seat across from Joe, pulling the laptop towards him. “Especially with her plan in action now.”

Booker opened the computer and started typing madly. 

“Are you a hacker now?” Oli looked amused as they jumped off the counter and rounded the table. Booker chuckled, but didn’t respond.

“Let us know when you get something,” Joe stood with his cup and started towards the back door. Nicky followed him, rolling his eyes, and grabbed their swords.

“He’s still mad at you, isn’t he?” Nile crossed her arms, watching them leave. 

“I deserve it,” Booker muttered. “After this is finished, I have to-”

“What? Live in isolation and pain?” Nile interrupted him. She bit her lip. “I’ve been dreaming of Quynh for less than a year. It never goes away, does it?”

Booker shook his head as he clicked on the track pad.

“I get it,” Nile said. “I’m not letting you deal with that alone.”

“Thank you,” He looked up, eyes vulnerable. 

“I’ll talk to him,” she winked at him.

“I think the other lovebird is already doing that,” Oli was twisted in a strange way to gaze out the back door. “Or do they normally talk when they spar?”

“Well…”

“That doesn’t have to do with sex.”

“Not really,” Nile turned her attention to the back door. “If they were having spar sex, Joe would have put down his coffee.” She frowned as she caught glimpses of the tension in Joe’s jaw while he listened to Nicky, sipping from his coffee and deflecting blows. “He’s pissed.”

“He’d never tell Nicky that,” Booker looked over his shoulder at the couple. “And if you think Joe’s extreme, never make Nicky mad. He’s...for lack of a better word, insane.”

Oli’s eyes got a little sad. “He reminds me of my dad. Papa represented the extremes of emotion. He was the kindest person you’d ever meet, but piss him off and he’d beat the shit out of you.” They laughed. “He once told me that fighting was a love language.”

“Well,” Nile cocked her head and smiled softly. “For them, it kind of is.”


	24. Leaving More Broken Than Before

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning:  
> Some death and blood

“Got it!” Booker yelled, four hours later. Joe and Nicky ran in from the living room, and Oli and Nile came inside from training. “God this encryption was beautiful but an absolute pain in the ass.”

“Where is she?” Joe leaned over his shoulder.

“This warehouse,” Booker pulled up a photo. “About an hour away. The final head of her never ending shell corporations.”

“Let’s go,” Nicky nodded. “Let’s go get our boss.”

***

Andy pulled up to the house, exhausted. She had just been driving around after she found Quynh, which had taken a day. When she ran out of gas, she just refilled and kept driving. She slammed the door to the car, jogging up the stairs to the front door. 

She pushed open the door to find a dark and quiet house. She wrinkled her eyebrows. No matter what, the lights were never all the way off in case of the need of a speedy exit.

“Joe? Nicky?” Andy flipped the light switch, pulling her gun out of her waistband. “Nile? Booker? Oli?”

She walked cautiously into the kitchen, her eyes roving. The weapons were gone. So were the bags. It looked like everyone left in a hurry. There was a cup of cold coffee on the table.

Andy picked it up and took a sip. “Hm, not bad.”

 _Where did they go?_

Andy’s eyes widened as it hit her like a train. _They went to find me. They went to find Quynh._ “Motherfucker!”

Andy ran out of the house and jumped in the car. _Please let me find them before they find her._

***

They pulled up to the wharf, the lights flickering. It was a run down area, and only one warehouse had any light coming from it at all. 

Joe, Nicky and Nile got out of the car silently, prepping for a fight. Booker grabbed Oli’s arm as they tried to get out of the car. “Stay here.”

“This bitch tortured and killed us for a month,” Oli hissed at him. “I’m coming with you.” They jumped out of the car, taking the gun from Nile with a nod. Booker sighed.

“Don’t get attached, you said,” Booker got out of the car. “It’ll be easy, you said.”

The group took their weapons of safety, and ran along the wall of the warehouse to a small maintenance door on the side. Nile got the ‘go ahead’ nod from Nicky, and threw open the door, and the group filed in. They ducked behind some crates next to the doorway. They peered over the top of the pile, a warehouse with barely anything in it welcoming them. The floor was open, with a few crates here and there, and a few heavy duty lanterns strung up here and there. 

They split into two groups, Nicky and Nile, and Booker, Joe and Oli. They went in opposite directions, looking for any possible assailants and Andy. 

Oli crouched down behind a box as Joe did. They raised their eyebrow. Joe shook his head. _False alarm._ Oli nodded, and put their hand on the box as they went to stand, but pulled their hand back quickly. Joe saw the swift movement in his peripheral, and swiveled back to find Oli staring at the box. 

“Oli?” Joe whispered. “What is it?”

“I -” Oli swallowed. “The box, it’s -”

“Familiar, isn’t it?” They whipped their head up at the voice they knew all too well.

“Holy shit,” Joe murmured, taking in the scene of the woman he used to know standing regally in the middle of the warehouse with two armed guards behind her. “Quynh.”

“Hello, Yusuf,” Quynh turned her attention to him. “Excuse me, _Joe._ ”

Joe looked past her to the other two, who were watching with bated breath. Nicky raised his gun slightly, but Joe shook his head the smallest amount he could.

“I know you’re there, Nicolo,” Quynh kept eye contact with Joe, whose eyes were flicking back and forth between her and Oli. Booker had moved slightly in front of them. “It’s nice to meet you, Nile. ”

The guards moved suddenly, pointing their weapons at Booker, Joe and Oli. Joe heard the cock of guns on either side of them. They were surrounded. 

“Oli,” Quynh put her hands in her pockets - a simple gesture, but a confident one. “Be a dear and get in the box.”

“I would rather go back to that fucking apartment,” Oli shot back with practiced ease, but their body language and expression told a different story. 

“Very well,” she sighed. She nodded, and shots rang out. Booker and Oli fell first, Oli from a headshot, Booker from one in the neck. Joe fell back against the wall, the bullets in his chest stealing his breath. He wheezed, his lungs unable to take in enough oxygen as they filled with blood. He heard shouts, before it all went black.

***

Andy had never driven more recklessly or faster in her life, which was saying something. As she pulled up to the wharf, she saw another care As she jumped out of her car and ran towards it, she heard shots and shouts. She burst through the door. She saw Booker, Joe and Oli fall. She saw Nicky’s rage. She saw Quynh in the middle of it.

“Enough!” Everything stopped. “Quynh, stop this. Now!”

The woman looked over her shoulder at Andy. “No.” 

The loud thud of metal hitting metal drew her attention. As chains wrapped around the large metal box with a small slot, and the locked clicked, she heard a scream. The box started to rock and shake as inhuman screams came from it. A hand shot out of the slot, grabbing at the chain. _Oli._

Joe jumped up and started slicing throats. He was making his way to Quynh. Booker was up and vaulted over the box, trying to get the lock off when a bullet entered his skull and he fell to the ground. Two men dragged him away. Nicky was laying waste to anyone who got in his way, trying to get to Joe as Nile grabbed Andy and pulled her behind a box.

“You can die, moron!” Nile yelled as she fired over the box. “Where have you been?”

“No time,” Andy handed Nile another clip. “We have to get out of here, now.”

She heard Nicky scream and looked over. Joe was lying on the floor, dead, and Nicky was gasping for air, bleeding from his neck with Quynh standing over them. Andy leaped over the box, Nile close behind. She grabbed Nicky and started dragging him away, Quynh watching her as she left. Nile went for Joe, but got a bullet to the leg instead. Several bullets, actually. She fell to her knees as Joe woke, waiting to heal. He touched her hand. 

“Leave,” He rasped.

“I’m not leaving you,” Nile shot someone behind him. 

“Nile,” His voice was commanding, laced with emotion. “Leave.” Nile looked down and had her heart torn apart by the look on his face. “We’ll need someone to save us later.” She nodded, tearing herself away from him, and ran as fast as she could to the outside, slipping into the passenger seat of Andy’s car. She nodded to Andy, who had dumped a now dead Nicky in the backseat, and Andy understood it all. She floored the gas pedal. 

Joe laid on the floor, watching a man walk over him. He heard another thud and the click of a box closing. 

“Sleep well,” the man above him said, raising his firearm.

“I always do,” Joe murmured.


	25. Banished to the Depths

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters are gonna be on the short side for now, but there are many more to come :)

Nicky woke up in the parking lot of a grocery store. He groaned, blinked a couple of times, and slowly sat up as he remembered the events of the night. “Joe.”

The passenger side door opened, and Nile dropped into it. “You’re awake!”

“Nile, where’s Joe?” Nicky swung his legs into the foot well. “And Andy, and Booker and Oli?”

“Andy’s right here,” He heard from behind him, as Andy walked past the open window. 

“Where are the others?” He pressed.

Nile looked at her lap, and then at him. “We didn’t get to them.”

“What.” Nile had never seen Nicky change emotions so quickly. “Why?”

“You were dead and Nile was barely able to stand, and I can die,” Andy inserted the key.

“We have to go back!” Nicky shouted.

“Joe told me to leave,” Nile said so small. Nicky’s anger deflated. _Joe had told her to leave._

“Where are we going?” Nicky asked after a moment of silence.

“Any place we can shower, eat and sleep,” Andy pulled out of the parking lot. “And then we find our family.”

***

Oli had been in a constant state of a panic attack ever since they were put back in the box. _They were back in the box. No, no, NO!_

They jostled, yet again, on this horrible vehicle they were in. Oli thought it was a plane, because their ears had popped about an hour ago. They looked out the slot, seeing the eyes of the other two men looking back at them out of their slots. Joe's eyes smiled. 

Oli’s attention was brought to a man walking past them. They heard him open the cargo bay. They saw him unhook Joe and Booker’s rope, and watched as he gave them a push and they tumbled out of the plane.

“NO!”

Oli felt the box grate against the metal floor. They felt their stomach drop as they started to fall. They felt themself break like a twig.

***

Nile had never seen Nicky like this. He was standing besides Copley, arms crossed. His eyes were dark and guarded. He hadn’t shaved in a few days, and he was growing scruff. 

“Here’s the next spot,” Copley scrawled an address on a napkin and handed it to Andy. Nicky’s eyes never left the paper. “Be careful.”

Andy nodded, and they left for the fourth time in two days.


	26. The Bottom

_Why am I so cold?_ Oli was trying to remember what happened. They looked around, trying to ignore the pressure in their ears. Why was there pressure? _This is...water._

 _Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck._ They pounded on the walls, pushing away the rational that it wouldn’t do anything _. Booker. Joe. No…_

As the carbon dioxide built up in their body, Oli screamed a final, silent scream.

***

“Where are they?” Nicky pressed his blade closer to his neck. 

“I...told you...I don’t know,” The man tried to talk without touching the blade. 

“Tell me,” He growled. “Now.”

“Nicky,” Andy called to him. 

“He knows something,” Nicky grunted. 

She crossed the room and put her hand on his bicep. “ _Nicky._ ” His eyes darted to her face. She tightened her grip. “It’s time to go.” He nodded slightly, pulling his sword around from the man against the wall, and stepped away, where Nile was waiting to guide him to the car. 

“Jesus,” The man rubbed his neck. “Thank you.”

Andy punched him in the nose, and he fell to the floor hard. She leaned her forehead against the wall. “Goddammit, Quynh.”

***

It was absolutely crushing. Screaming got nothing done, and no matter how much they kicked or punched, the lock wouldn’t budge.

Oli couldn’t stop gasping for air every few seconds, something that greatly decreased their time to act. This time they didn’t even try. As their eardrums throbbed from the pain of the pressure, the box jostled. Oli wasn’t falling anymore.

The box had reached the bottom.


	27. 3 Days

Nicky slammed his sword on the table. Copley emerged from the living room. He looked to Nile, who shook her head. He sighed.

Nicky walked up to the cupboard and pulled out the vodka. He pulled out three glasses. Even in his state of distress, he was still thinking of his family. As he poured the glasses, he tried to ignore how much his hands were shaking. He put the bottle back.

“None for you?” Nile asked gently. He shook his head. 

“They don’t need me to drink myself into a hole,” Nicky murmured. He walked to the table and picked his sword up. “I’m going to bed.”

They watched as he shuffled towards the bedroom. 

“It’s been three days,” Nile handed Andy a glass. 

“Yeah,” Andy downed her drink. 

“At this rate, he’s going to kill himself, come back and do it all over again,” Nile pressed.

“We won’t let it get that long,” Andy plucked Nile’s drink out of her hand and downed it. “We can’t. I can’t do that to Nicky.”  
“We have to be prepared for the long haul,” Nile took Copley’s drink and handed it to him before Andy could down his too. “I hate it as much as you do, but we can’t promise anything.”

“She’s right,” Copley interrupted the tense moment. “You spent 500 years looking for Quynh.”

“She was at the bottom of the ocean,” Andy gritted out. “We don't know where they are. And she wouldn't do that.” Nile raised her eyebrow. "I know she wouldn't."

“And it could still take us decades to find them,” Copley put his glass down on the table. “I know you don’t want to be faced with this again, but Nile is correct. We need a contingency plan.”

“And there’s three of them,” Nile rubbed her face. “Just because we find one of them doesn’t mean they will all be there. Quynh probably separated them.”

“I don’t have decades. Nicky doesn’t have decades,” Andy whispered. “I....I can’t die knowing they are out there. I can’t do it. _I won’t_.”

“We will find them.”

The three turned to the hallway. Nicky had changed into new clothes, and his face shrouded in shadow. “We will find them,” he repeated. 

“Nicky…” Andy started, but he held up a hand. 

“I don’t care how long it takes,” Nicky put his hands in his pockets. “I will find them. I will find Joe.”

“I’m not saying we won’t, Nicky, but…” Nile tried. 

“You’re right,” Nicky said. “I can’t keep going like this. And...Joe wouldn’t want this.” He tried to smile, but it came out as more a pained grimace. “Good night.”

They watched as he walked back towards the bedroom. 

“Get some sleep,” Copley took a sip of his drink. “You’ll need it. You can bash the heads of someone else tomorrow.”

“Fine,” Andy looked longingly at the bottle on the shelf. She turned to Nile. “Come on.”

They trickled out of the room, Copley watching critically. “Good night, ladies.”

***

Oli gasped to life, ignoring the initial panic of water flooding their lungs. They knew they only had a few moments before the cycle started again. They wrenched their hand out of the gap between the box and their ribs, and forced it out of the small slot up to their elbow. Oli was probably the only member small enough to fit through the narrow slot, and it even hurt for them. 

They reached up, feeling the lock. Oli attempted to rip it off, but ended up breaking a finger instead.

 _Shit._ They swore, the only oxygen they had left escaping their lungs.


	28. "Boss"

Nile handed Nicky a bowl of oatmeal, and he nodded his thanks. He slowly started to eat under Nile’s watchful eye. Copley took a long sip out of his coffee cup. Andy walked in, hair plastered to her face from her shower. Nile handed her a bowl as she leaned against the counter.

“How’d you sleep?” Nile poured herself a cup of coffee.

Nicky shrugged. Andy shook her hand horizontally. Nile sighed, and turned to Copley. “What about you?”

“Bold of you to assume I slept,” Copley gave her a tired smile, ignoring her annoyed look. “You need sleep to fight, and I will sleep while you fight.”

“Anything new?” Nicky pushed away his half eaten oatmeal, avoiding Nile’s eyes. Andy may be the leader, but Nile was the mom. 

Copley cocked his head. “Another possible location, but nothing on Quynh. I hate to say it, but she was smart. Calculated. I suppose 500 years gives you time to think.”

“Any lead on the boxes?” Andy put down her cleaned out bowl. 

The mood turned sour as Copley looked down. Nicky stood up. 

“Half hour,” Andy said as he walked away. “We leave in a half hour.”

“Got it, boss,” He called back. Andy winced.

“What?” Nile hovered around her. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” Andy gave her a reassuring, but sad look. “It’s just...only Joe calls me ‘boss.’”

***

Oli jolted, arm stuck outside of the box. Trying to rip the lock off wasn’t working, and Oli wasn't willing to wait an eternity of broken fingers to get it off. 

They let their hand travel down the chain, forcing them to get their arm up to their shoulder outside the box, leaving them in a painful position. They grabbed at the ground, searching for something - anything, that would be off use. They moved their hand abruptly to the left, accidentally dislocating their shoulder. Their vision started to fade to black as they hit something hard, and it moved. Oli fought against the dots of black floating in front of them (relative to the darkness of the water), and dragged the rock closer to the box. 

Oli left in with sharp pain shooting through their shoulder and chest. 


	29. It has to be

They entered guns blazing. There were only a small handful of men. Andy was standing with one foot on a man’s chest, pistol pointed at his face. 

“Tell us where the boxes are,” Her eyes were cold as steel. “Or you lose an ear.”

“I don’t know anything about any boxes!” Andy put her finger on the trigger. “But, I know about the woman!”

“Keep talking,” She pressed harder on his chest, causing him to cough. 

“She approached us,” He squirmed under Andy’s foot. “Gave us a couple jobs. Nothing too complicated. Simple shit.” Nicky walked up to them. “But we cut off our contact when she started talking about some heavy shit revenge. Would mutter about making them drown like she had.”

“You drew the line at revenge?” Nicky looked at him inquisitively. 

“She was talking about murdering her family,” He turned his head to Nicky. “We’re willing to do a lot, but we don’t kill our family. She couldn’t even give us a reason why, just saying she got separated from them and they never found her.”

“Give me contact information,” Andy stared at him. “Now.”

“Last contact we had with her was an English number.  [ 020 7946 0853 ](https://fakenumber.org/phone/020-7946-0853) ,” He gasped as Andy got off him. 

“Good news,” She kicked him in the ribs. “You don’t get to die.” Andy shot an inch next to his head. “You talk, you lose an eye.”

“Let’s go, Andy,” Nicky was already towards the door, phone out, typing in the number. She followed reluctantly. Andy stepped outside, where Nicky was pacing back and forth with Nile watching. She heard the ringing stop and someone picked it up, but no one said anything. 

“Where. The. Fuck. Are. They,” It didn’t even sound like Nicky. Andy grabbed the phone from him, typing a few buttons before putting the phone to her ear.

“Quynh, listen to me,” Andy started, tossing Nile the keys. “Please. You don’t have to tell us where they are. Just let us talk to you in person.”

She heard a rustling in the back. “No.”

“Please,” Andy was on the verge of pleading, something she never did. “Nicky is dying.”

She waited for several minutes, afraid if she tried to prompt Quynh, Quynh would hang up. 

“No,” Quynh said calmly. “You will not call me again.” The line clicked, and the call ended. 

Andy let out a deep breath, opening the car door. “You get that?”

“Yes,” Copley’s voice vibrated through the car. “Good quick thinking. I didn’t get an exact location, but I got a region.”

“A region is enough,” Nile started the car. She glanced at Nicky, who was curled up in the passenger seat. “It’s enough,” She repeated.  _ It has to be.  _

***

Oli had one option. They took the rock and started banging on the lock.


	30. Break one Lock, Find two More

The lock finally, finally broke. Too many deaths later, Oli felt the tension of the chain release. With a lot of effort, they managed to push the door open after removing their arm. They swam out, their hands sweeping all around them since they couldn’t see in the darkness. As they started to swim, their hand hit something hard, and cold, and... _flat. I’m running out of time._

Oli pulled themself closer, their hands holding tight onto what felt like their chains. The box shook. Oli rubbed their hand over the flat surface, finding a slot, and stuck their hand in. As they felt themself fading, they wrapped their arm and leg around the chain, and a hand grab theirs. 

***

“You’re not coming!” Andy yelled at Nicky. His fists were clenched and shaking. “I am not putting you through more than you can handle.”

“What makes you think I can’t handle it?!” He yelled back. Copley and Nile stood off to the side, glancing at one another throughout the argument. 

“Tell me the truth,” Andy took a step towards him. He took a step back. “Have you slept in the past week?” Nicky opened his mouth. “Don’t lie to me, Nicky.”

Nicky closed his mouth. His jaw was tense. “I can’t sleep without him,” his voice broke as his whisper filled the space with noise..

“You aren’t coming,” Andy turned away from him. “Let’s go, Nile. Get some rest, Nicky.”

Andy and Nile filed out the door, Nile throwing a reassuring look over her shoulder. Nicky and Copley didn’t move, Copley studying Nicky’s broken form. He cleared his throat.

“May I offer you a cup of tea?”

***

This lock was more stubborn than Oli’s had been. No matter how long it had been, it always startled Oli when the hand grabbed theirs. Oli thought it was Joe, but really had no way of knowing. They couldn’t see shit, and the chains were digging into them, but it was the only way to stay near the box. Every time they thought they had longer than they did, but in reality could only get 2 or 3 good hits before blacking out again. 

Oli felt the hand start to lose its grip on theirs. They hit the lock again. _One more time. Just one more time._


	31. Dolls

Andy and Nile were standing in the middle of the empty building, one of many of the day. 

“There’s nobody here,” Nile looked around. “Did Quynh know we traced the call?”

“She must have,” Andy murmured. “I’ll take the next floor, you take the basement.” Nile nodded confirmation as she walked towards the basement. She kicked the door open and descended the stairs slowly. The automatic light turned on, revealing a basement with nothing but a tank of water in the middle.

“Andy!” Nile called up to her as she rounded the corner of the tank. It was large, 3 feet by 3 feet, 5 feet tall. In it were 3 little boxes. Nile pulled the boxes out as Andy ran down the stairs. She kneeled on the ground, putting the boxes down. Andy didn’t join her, standing guard instead, but was watching.

Nile flipped the lids of the boxes open. In each box, was a small, wooden doll with black x’s over the eyes. “Andy,” Nile’s breath quivered as she picked up one of the dolls. Andy’s eyes were wide as saucers. 

“No,” Andy breathed. “No, Quynh...Booker said Quynh wouldn’t do something like that.”

Nile dropped the doll. “Quynh lied.”

***

Oli slapped the hand inside the box before pulling away, pulling on the edge of the slot, the water pressure making it a struggle. After a few moments, the chain still wrapped around Oli’s arm, the door opened, someone swimming out, grabbing onto Oli.  _ If he’s so close, it means the other one is nearby too.  _ The man seemed to follow Oli’s thought process, and held onto Oli as he swam around, and Oli held onto the box. Oli felt themself starting to go as the man pulled them towards the final box, and held on. 


	32. One More Time

Copley sighed, rubbing his eyes as Nile explained what happened. Nicky was sitting across from him, watching intently. Copley had only been able to convince Nicky to attempt to sleep for an hour or two. 

“Thank you,” Copley told Nile. “See you soon.” He hung up, avoiding Nicky’s gaze.

“What happened? Did they find Quynh?” Nicky’s hands were holding a teacup, but he hadn’t taken a sip from it in ages. 

“No,” Copley bit his lip. “I think...Andy or Nile should tell you what they found. They will be back in about a half hour.”

“It’s bad,” Nicky stared at Copley. “Isn’t it?” 

Copley nodded. “I...yes.” Nicky deflated in his chair. “We will find them.”

“It’s been a week and a half,” Nicky muttered. “I can’t imagine what 500 years must have been like.”

Copley didn’t know what to say.

***

Joe held onto Oli tightly, in the box and out. It had to be Oli, as they were the only one small enough to fit their arm through the box. As he was released, Oli held onto the box and him. As he searched for Booker’s box, since Oli’s was nearby, he felt Oli start to fade. He was grateful to find Booker’s box almost immediately after. 

Joe pulled himself to the box and hooked his arm around the chain, mirroring Oli, though he didn’t know. He pulled Oli to the box and held on tight, thankful Oli woke just as he left.

***

The two men watched as the women walked in. Andy dropped heavily into a seat, resting her arms on the table and laying her head on them. Nile went to the fridge, pulled out a beer, and chugged. When she finished the beer, she took out another one and chugged. 

“Tell me.”

Nicky’s voice echoed through the kitchen. Nile threw a small cloth bag that landed in the middle of the table. Nicky tentatively reached out, hands shaking. He pulled the drawstring loose, and pulled out one of the boxes. He glanced at Nile, who was drinking a third beer, at a slower pace this time. She nodded. He turned back to the box, and slowly pulled the lid open. He dropped the box when he saw the doll inside. 

Andy raised her head as Nile put an open beer next to her. “We found three of them. In a tank of water.”

Nicky’s eyes shot up to her. “You mean…”

Andy nodded as she took a swig. “I’m sorry, Nicky.”

“Could it be a fake? Something to throw us off?” Copley picked up the box, studying it. 

Andy took her head. “No, it’s too specific, and with Quynh’s history…”

Nicky got up abruptly, jostling the table as he went. He grabbed Copley’s computer and started typing like mad. “What are you doing?” Copley frowned, setting down the box gently. 

“Finding us a boat,” he answered tersely. “I will search every ocean in the world if I have to. But I am finding them.”

***

Joe really liked this rock. Using a rock was much more efficient than his fist. Oli had pressed a rather large one into his hand after they realized he was punching the box. The box was positioned more precariously than the other too, wedged between two rocks and at angle. Every few minutes, a couple bubbles of air would emerge out of the slot, accompanied with some jostling. He slammed the rock against the lock, ignoring the pain in his leg, the one he had contorted to stay anchored. He kept hammering as he felt Oli jolt back to life next to him, and the air bubbles floated up again.

_ One.  _ Slam.  _ More.  _ Slam.  _ Time.  _ Slam.


	33. Pushing Off

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's been a minute. Sorry for lull in posting, life has gotten kinda crazy.   
> So to recap/remind you of what has happened:  
> Joe, Oli and Booker are at the bottom of the Ocean in separate boxes. Oli and Joe are out, and trying to open Booker's box.  
> The rest are tracking Quynh/the missing three. Quynh left a clue for them, and they are frantically trying to find their missing family. Nicky is falling to pieces. Nile is pissed off. Andy is tired and upset. And Copley is the only one who seems to have any shred of sanity left. Enjoy!

Booker could feel the vibrations of something banging against the box. He hoped it wasn’t something alive.  _ Maybe I deserve this. _ Booker felt the box jolt yet again, stronger than the usual banging. It happened every so often.

Booker felt his vision start go fuzzy, and somehow in the water, tears well up in his eyes. How many more years in this box until he had paid his debt? Would Andy be dead? Would Quynh have hurt Nile or Nicky? _ Nicky. _ Nicky would die inside without Joe. He would become a shell of a person, a husk. 

Booker cried as the last of his oxygen floated away.

***

Nicky was gently guided off the bargaining with the rental company. Copley took over, as he spoke the native language, and the woman on the phone started to sound really annoyed with Nicky.

Nicky brought Nile a cup of coffee while she followed Copley’s instructions on the computer. He set a cup of tea in front of Copley, who nodded his thanks. Copley frowned at the phone.

After a few moments, Copley hung up with a huff. Andy glanced over from the stove. “That bad?”

“A rather terse woman,” Copley picked up his tea. “I have a feeling we were nearing the end of her shift.”

“What did she say?” Nicky pulled down some plates, even though the meal wouldn’t be ready for at least a half hour. He couldn’t sit still. 

“I gave her my information, and she said she has input our information,” Copley took a sip. “We should get an answer back in a day or two if we have been submitted for approval, and a few days after that if we actually get approval.”

“That’s too long,” Nicky muttered.

“We don’t have a choice, Nicky,” Nile rubbed her face, tired. “That’s a better response than most people have given us,” she wrapped her hands around the warm mug. “Who knew renting a boat and scuba equipment would be so difficult.”

“It’s high tourist season and we try to arrange it for a few months out,” Andy lowered the heat on the stove. She paused, and stared hard at Nicky. He was getting more frantic. He hadn’t shaved in a few days, and a scruff was building up. His posture had started to decline, and he kept picking at the skin on his hands.  _ Who knew a week and a half in a life of six thousand years would feel so long. _

***

Oli felt the lock break into several pieces in their hand. Oli grabbed the slot and started to pull, pushing death away. Joe jolted to life next to them, and after a few seconds, his hands bumping against Oli’s as they pulled. Booker started to fade as four hands grabbed at him. He tried to fight it, but slipped into darkness before anything could happen. Joe grabbed Oli’s hand and looped Booker's arm over his, and together, they pushed off towards the surface.


	34. Start Swimming

The water was crushing, pulling him farther down. He scrabbled, no longer swimming, clawing at the water. Black spots started to flash upon his vision, only to expand into the night sky as he broke the surface.

He coughed, trying to expel water from his lungs while sucking in air. Just as he was ready to inhale without worrying about liquid filled lungs, a wave crashed over him to fill his lungs again. Eventually, he was able to tread water, letting himself float with the waves, instead of let them overtake him. 

“Booker?!” Joe shouted, barely audible over the storm. “Oli?!”

Joe swum a few feet, shouting out again, starting to panic. They had been with him just a few moments before. _Shit._ “Oli! Book!”

Oli broke the surface behind him, gasping, before slipping back under the dark water. “No!” Joe swam over, searching the surface for Oli, but his hands met nothing. He yelped when he felt something grab his leg, then realized it was a hand. _Oli._

Oli held onto Joe, using him to pull up someone else. _Booker._ Joe swam to his side, helping Oli prop him up as he went through the same process of a combination of breathing and coughing. A wave crashed over them, attempting to drag them apart, but they held on tight.

“Thanks,” Booker panted. “How did you…”

“I’m-” Oli closed their mouth to avoid water from filling their lungs again. They were thoroughly done with drowning over and over again. “From Hawai’i. I know how to swim by birth right.”

“We have to get to shore,” Joe released Booker, allowing him to tread water on his own. 

“Where is the shore?” Booker let go of Oli, only to grab on again to avoid being swept away by the current. Joe looked around, following Booker’s idea by grabbing onto them. “And how do we get there?”

“We pick a direction,” Joe accidentally kicked Oli, sending them an apologetic look, but he doubted they could see it in the rain. He could pretty much only hear them. “And we start swimming.” 

***

Copley sighed, looking at Nicky from his place at the computer. He was curled up on the couch, asleep. Every boat company was taking a reasonable amount of time to respond, but they didn’t have time to waste. 

Andy slid into the seat next to him and peered at his computer screen. He looked at her blearily as she closed his screen. 

“Get some sleep, James,” Andy stood quietly, making her way over to Nicky. She studied him for a moment, then pressed a kiss to his locks from behind the couch. “We can continue tomorrow.”

Copley nodded as he stood, and lumbered down the hall. “You too, Nile.”

Nile looked up from her phone, where she had been helping Copley. “But-”

“Nile,” Andy raised her eyebrow as though she was scolding a child. Nile held her gaze, attempting to challenge her. Nile eventually deflated into her chair. 

“Okay,” Nile followed Copley. She paused at the hallway entrance. “You should too.”

Andy smiled, tired. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes, but she nodded anyway. Nile nodded back, convinced, and walked away. Andy turned to Nicky as he murmured in his sleep. 

Andy chuckled, gently climbing over the couch and curled against him, letting his soft breaths lull her to sleep.

***

Oli didn’t like the water of the Atlantic. It was cold. The water back home wasn’t boiling, but it wasn’t as freezing as this. And no matter how long they swam, the water was never ending. Just a horizon filled with water. On top of that, Joe had died from dehydration and Booker and Oli were dragging him through the water.

“Blrgh,” Joe spluttered to life. The dark circles under his eyes were prominent, and his cheeks had started to tighten from lack of food. Booker and Oli stopped to tread water as Joe got his feet back. 

“We can’t keep doing this,” Booker grimaced. His growing beard was tamped together by the seawater, and his eyes were sinking into his skull.

Joe nodded as much as he could, his limbs heavy. Oli glanced between the two men, the strongest swimmer of them, ready to dive under to catch them if needed. Oli shook their head, unable to deal with the water that splashed into their ear. _Get out, get out, get out, GET OUT._

Oli rubbed at their ear vigorously, scrunching up their face. Joe and Booker were watching them, concerned. Oli paused the rubbing, tilting their head. 

“What?” Booker swam closer, hovering. 

“Do you hear that?” Oli whispered.

“Hear what?” Booker furrowed his brow. Was Oli hallucinating from dehydration, starvation?

“That,” Oli said more firmly, turning away from the men. They followed Oli’s gaze and strained their ears. A dot appeared on the horizon, accompanied with a barely audible hum.

_A boat._


	35. Russian Spies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love how the amount of writing that gets put out declines to much you know exactly who goes to school.  
> So, let's recap what's happened, since it's been...a month?  
> Joe, Booker, and Oli are out! And they hear a boat. And everyone else is having a mental breakdown.
> 
> Italics=Swedish  
> Underlined=Russian

_ Italics=Swedish _

Underlined = Russian

John, the first mate, was wrapping a rope when he heard it. He took off his hat, looking out in the sea. The boat was small, but they weren’t that far away from shore. He did a slow 180 sweep. There were no boats nearby. But he had swore that he had heard a voice.

_ “Hey, Captain?” _ John put the rope down and stuck his head into the cabin. 

_ “What is it, Johnny?” _ The captain glanced over his shoulder. His glasses glinted in the sun. 

_ “Did you...did you hear a voice?” _

The captain turned fully around. _ “What?” _

_ “I just...I thought I heard a voice.” _

_ “Have the sirens finally gotten to your head?” _ The captain teased, snorting and facing forward again.

“Hey!”

The captain froze. 

_ “There, captain!” _ John ran out of the cabin, grabbing binoculars.  _ “You heard it right?” _

The captain killed the engine, and the boat floated to a stop, rocking on the waves. 

Johnny looked out onto the dark water. 

“Help!”

Johnny put down the binoculars.  _ “Sven! Drop anchor!” _

Sven ran from the other side of the boat.  _ “But…” _

_ “Do what he says, Sven!” _ The captain emerged from the cabin. _ “There are people out there!” _

_ “But we’re kilometers from shore!” _ Sven dropped the anchor, squinting out at the water and the reflection off of it. 

The three men looked out in silence. 

The captain leaned against the railing. He cupped his hands around his mouth. _ “Hello?” _

“Over here!” A deeper voice than the first one, and a splash to the starboard side.

_ “There!”  _ John pointed out into the water. 

“They see us!” Joe exclaimed. “Keep splashing!”

Booker started to splash, while Oli looked at them confused. “Why aren’t you splashing?”

“Or we could, I don’t know, swim towards the boat,” Oli pointed out. “They turned off their motor, they’re just coasting.”

The two men gazed at each other and then the 15 year old. “Yeah, that’s a better idea,” They agreed.

Oli scoffed as they started to swim. “Hundreds of years of knowledge, yet common sense seems to allude all of you.”

They swam up to the boat. It was farther than they thought. Joe felt himself starting to fade. He was so cold and tired, and the boat was so far. What if he just….

“Joe!” Booker doved as Joe slipped beneath the surface. “Get to the boat, Oli!” Booker dove. Oli nodded, sprinting to the boat, where John grabbed them by the forearms and pulled him up. 

_ “Sven, get some blankets!”  _ The captain yelled as the crewmate jumped into action.

Booker groped the dark water, but came up with nothing. He swam deeper, the water stinging his eyes. Keeping them open wasn’t substantially helpful as the water’s visibility was horrid. He knew that Joe would continue to sink, and even when he came too, there’s no telling he would make it before he ran out of air. 

Booker screamed in frustration, big air bubbles floating to the surface.

“Booker!” Oli’s eyes searched the water to no avail. John wrapped a blanket around the shivering teen. Oli nodded their thanks. “Boooooker!”

_ “Who is this ‘Booker’?” _ John whispered to the captain. 

_ “The man who dived, or the man who sunk,”  _ The captain pulled up a ring buoy, ready to throw it. 

Oli glanced at the captain. That language sounded familiar. Why? “Das Schwedisch?”

The captain looked at her, surprised.  _ “Deutsch?” _

Oli nodded. He smiled at them. 

Booker burst out of the water with Joe flopped against him. Oli rested their head on their hands on the railing, their shoulders dropping. “Oh, thank God.”

The three men rushed to the side of the boat, pulling up the men. Booker was breathing heavily, on his hands and knees, rubbing Joe’s back as he hucked up salt water. 

Joe couldn’t cough enough. Soon the water was out but he was still dry heaving.

“Uhhhhh,” Joe started to shiver, all the seawater out of his stomach. Booker shifted to sitting on his side. 

“Thanks a lot, asshole,” Booker muttered, reaching out to Oli behind him. They grabbed his hand. His hand was clammy and cold. He wasn’t shivering, like his body was too tired to.

“Anytime,” Joe groaned as he pushed with his feet against the deck into the side of the wall, like a toddler. He watched as Sven timidly laid a blanket on him. Joe waved a hand, breathing heavily. He looked through his wet curls at Oli, who was on the other side of the small boat, was huddled under a blanket next to Booker, whose hair was plastered to his forehead. Joe turned his attention to the three men, one of which looked utterly terrified, the other with a dark hat and raincoat, and a bespectacled man with a grey beard, staring at Oli.

Oli sighed, peeling her eyes away from the captain to Joe. “He’s speaking Swedish, and his German is shit.”

“If you know it’s Swedish, can’t you talk to them?” Joe tried to push his hair out of his face to no avail. The oldest man said something to them.

“My Swedish is shit,” Oli muttered, listening to the man. “I have no idea what he just said.”

Booker rubbed his eyes. “Let’s see if they know another language.” Booker blinked saltwater out of his eyes. “ What languages do you speak? ” 

“ _ He’s speaking Russian,”  _ Sven rung his hands nervously.  _ “What if they are Russian spies?” _

_ “She’s a child,”  _ John stuck his head out, pointing to Oli. 

“Why is he pointing to me?” Oli whispered to Booker.

“I don’t know,” he whispered back. “ Do any of you speak Russian? ”

“ A little, ” The captain hit Sven in the arm, and pushed John’s hand down.  _ “She’s a kid, and was stranded at sea. Don’t freak her out.”  _ He turned back to him. “ Who are you? Why are you so far from shore?”

Booker laughed quietly. “ My name is Booker, this is Oli ,” he used his thumb to point to the tense teenager next to him. He extended his arm. “ That’s Joe. ” Booker dropped his arm onto his knee. “ Please, just take us back to shore.”

The captains stared at him, unconvinced. “ You did not answer my question. ”

“Wir können du bezahlen,” Oli thunked their head against Booker’s shoulder. The captain bit his lip thinking. He grunted, twirling around to duck back into the cabin.

Joe followed him with his eyes. “Did that...what happened?”

“I don’t know,” Booker scrunched his face. The two crewmates looked confused too, glancing back and forth between the soaking wet people. 

The motor hummed to life, and the boat started to turn.

“I guess that’s our answer,” Joe winked at Oli. Oli’s cheek was smushed against Booker’s shoulder. Booker put his hand on their knee. 

Sven walked up, giving Booker a blanket. Booker tapped his knee as he tried to walk away. “ What day is it? ” Sven eyes widened, but his face was blank. Booker leaned forward and tapped Sven’s watch. 

“ _ Oh, of course,”  _ Sven knelt down and pulled up his sleeve, offering his wrist to Booker. Booker cocked his head to read the numbers. His face paled.

“What is it?” Oli stretched their neck to look at it. Their eyes widened. “Shit.”

“What, what day is it?” Joe’s stomach dropped.

Oli looked up. “July 24th.”

Joe sat back against the wall. “It’s been two weeks?! Fuck…” 

Sven didn’t know what they were saying, but something was bad. He offered a smile. Booker attempted to return it. God only knows what happened during those two weeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wir können du bezahlen - we can pay you


	36. Thirst

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recap: Oli, Booker and Joe are on a boat.

Sven got off the boat first, tying off the boat to the dock. John hopped off effortlessly, offering his hand to Oli. They jumped off the side onto the shaky dock. He offered a hand to Joe, who smiled, but hopped off himself. Booker squinted at John, contemplating. He shrugged, taking John’s rough hand.

Their clothes were mostly dry, but still damp enough to be uncomfortable. Joe’s curls had dried and were springing up. Oli kept shaking their foot, trying to get water out. Booker shook the captain's hand vigorously, thanking him profusely. The captain smirked and ruffled Booker’s hair, under the impression he was younger, and waved him away. 

Booker tried to talk to him, asking and promising payment. Joe and Oli stood a few feet away. 

“How are you feeling?” Joe stuck his hands in his pockets. 

Oli stared at him, confused and disgruntled. They were holding the pendant of their necklace tightly. “What do you think?”

Joe chuckled. “I mean, what do you need. Food, water, sleep.”

“Yes.” 

Joe laughed, throwing his head back. Booker walked over, backing up as he continued to thank the captain. He spun around, smiling softly. “He says we don’t have to pay him.”

Oli frowned. “Are you sure?”

“Trust me, I tried,” Booker scratched at his neck. “He wouldn’t even tell me his name so I wouldn’t try to pay him. Said it was just the right thing to do.”

Joe grinned. “What a wonderful surprise. If only Andy was here to see it.” 

Booker’s smile faded. “Come on, let’s go.” He started to walk down the dock. Joe and Oli looked at each other, confused at his sudden change in demeanor. They followed.

The town on the shore wasn’t small, but it wasn’t big. The streets were a mix between cobblestone and pavement. It was the middle of the day, and light was streaming through the trees. The buildings weren’t larger than two stories, but that was further back. By the water was an arrangement of shops and the industrial part of the port. Joe turned one final time to wave at the boat before following Oli following Booker. 

Booker led them through the streets. They were busy and people swerved around them. Oli hunched their shoulders, trying to hide from the scrutinizing gazes. Joe watched as people’s eyes lingered from Oli to Joe. Two noticeably wet individuals, neither of whom fit the look of this very European town. Booker turned abruptly, into a professional looking building.

Joe opened the door for Oli, his eyes roving across the crowd. It didn’t matter that he didn’t think there was a probable threat, Oli needed the assurance they were safe. He slipped into the lobby.

It was a blindingly white. The chairs were an extension of it, clear plastic. It had high ceilings and bright lights. It looked like a hospital. It was too clinical. The floor was so clean their shoes squelched against it. Oli crinkled their nose, staring at the ground as they slowly wandered up to the desk where Booker was leaned up against the counter. He leaned on his hand, trying to explain the situation to the receptionist. She was unimpressed and wasn’t giving Booker what he wanted.

Oli leaned against the counter, their elbows sliding on white shiny counter. They looked straight into the receptionist eyes and just stared at her. Didn’t blink. Joe wasn’t even sure they breathed. The receptionist leaned back, uncomfortable, before muttering something to Booker and speed walking into the back. 

“Shit,” Booker looked down at Oli. “That was creepy.”

Oli shrugged. “Making people uncomfortable gets you a lot of stuff.”

“Hey, Booker,” Joe looked up and around, examining the space. “Where are we?”

“A bank,” Booker turned to him. The receptionist came out of the back, still muttering, and handed him an envelope. Booker took it gently, opened it. His lips moved in murmurs as he counted. He nodded to the receptionist and turned on his heel, briskly walking out of the bank.

"Why do you have an account at a random bank in god knows where?" Joe muttered as he smiled apologetically to the receptionist and gestured to Oli, who bit their lip and glanced at the receptionist as they left. 

Booker was waiting just outside, counting the money again. He smiled when Joe and Oli exited. “You guys want some new clothes?”

***

The owner of the small store was suspicious the minute they walked in. He followed Joe around, glancing between him and Oli. Booker had given them the money and then told them he’d meet up with them. 

The store was empty and homey, with an arrangement of products, mostly clothes, with a few snacks and tourist things near the register up front. There was a sticky mottled green carpet with dark brown wood lining the walls. It would have been darker if there wasn’t a skylight in the middle of the store. 

Oli picked up a gray t-shirt and a plain dark green sweatshirt. The store owner raised his finger.

“I’m not going to steal it,” They looked up, a death stare boring into him. He swallowed his word.

_Ding!_

All of their heads snapped up as Booker walked into the store with a small paper bag. The store owner pulled himself away from Joe cautiously, smiling broadly at Booker. He greeted him, and Booker returned it halfheartedly. He walked to the side of the store, picking up a pair of jeans, boots, a shirt and a black denim jacket. He made his way to the register, pulling a pair of sunglasses off the display on the counter. The store owner practically sprinted behind the wooden counter. 

“Is this all, sir?” the store owner’s smile was large, but fake. His accent was noticeable, but understandable. 

“Can I use the changing room to change into these after I buy them?” Booker glanced to the back of the store where they were.

“Of course, sir! Anything else?” The store owner started to type on the register. Oli appeared next to him and put their clothes on the counter. “Excuse me, Miss, but I am helping this customer right now,” the store owner glowered at her.

“Not a Miss,” Joe and Booker said in unison as Joe added his clothes to the mix. Oli picked three water bottles from the display on the counter and slid them onto the counter to hide their smile.

“Regardless,” the owner tried to keep his miffed attitude for Booker. “I am helping this gentleman.”

“They’re with me,” Booker pulled out money from his small paper bag, starting to count. “How much?”

“They’re with you?” The owner looked disgusted. 

“Take my money, asshole,” Booker dropped money on the counter. Oli snorted, ignoring Booker’s “really?” look. The store owner pursed his lips but did not complain further. He handed Booker a receipt, refusing to meet his eyes. “Thank you.”

Oli grabbed their clothes and sauntered toward the changing rooms. The store owner walked into the room behind the register, slamming the door behind him.

“Racist motherfucker,” Booker turned towards the door and leaned against the countertop. 

Joe opened one of the waters with a satisfying snap. “He was following me around to,” Joe ignored Bookers glare towards the back. "Unfortunately, I'm used to it." Joe downed the bottle in a matter of seconds. He couldn't get enough. It felt like silk on his tongue and throat. He held it up, rubbing his thumb over the label. “You should drink one.” 

Booker reached behind Joe, grabbing a bottle and taking a sip. He went to put the cap back on. The thirst hit his throat harder than he was ready for, causing him to cough. Joe smirked. “Hit you all at once, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Booker’s voice was overshadowed by him chugging the bottle. “I didn’t know I was so thirsty.”

Joe capped his bottle and threw it towards the recycling bin. He missed. 

Booker laughed into his bottle while Joe picked up the bottle and dropped it in. As he crossed the storefront back to him, he pointed to Booker’s bag. “What’d you buy?”

Booker set the bottle down, picking up the small paper bag. He pulled out a flip phone and held it out to Joe.

Joe nodded as he spoke. “Good idea. Have you called anyone yet?”

“No,” Booker still had the phone extended. “I think you should call.”

“Why me?” Joe’s smile faded, his eyes narrowing. “We need to call them as soon as possible.” Oli emerged from the dressing rooms in new, dry clothes, pushing up the sleeves of their new sweatshirt. They admired their favorite part of their new clothes, blue sneakers - _dry_ , blue sneakers. Booker grabbed his clothes, grabbed Joe’s hand, and pressed the phone into. 

“Call Nicky,” Booker murmured. Booker let go, passing Oli on his way to the back. Oli picked up the last bottle.

“What's that?” Oli cracked the bottle open, setting the cap purposefully on the counter.

“A phone,” Joe flipped the phone open and started pressing buttons. Oli took a sip of water, observing as Joe hurriedly brought it up to this face.

_“Hello?”_

“Nicky?”


	37. A Phone Call

Nicky was holding the book, but he wasn’t reading. He was just staring at the page. Copley was typing on his computer, sipping a cup of coffee. Andy was pouring a coffee into a mug while Nile was looking at her phone, holding her mug to her chest.

The silence was deafening. 

_ Brrrring! Brrrring! Brrrring! _

They all looked up at the table, where Nicky’s phone was ringing. Nicky frowned and picked it up. 

“Wait,” Nile put her cup down. “You sure you wanna answer that?”

“It’s a burner phone,” Copley didn’t look up from his laptop. “If someone’s calling you, it’s someone who has the number.” He stopped typing, realizing the gravity of his statement.

Nicky bit his lip, cautiously hitting the accept button. He brought the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

_ “Nicky?” _

Nicky dropped the phone. It clattered on the table, and he rushed to pick it up as he dove over the table to grab a piece of paper and a pen. He put it on speaker. “Where are you? Are you okay? Are the others okay? What happened?”

Joe laughed wetly.  _ “I’m fine. Oli and Booker are fine. Say hi, Oli.” _ There was a pause, and then a higher voice came through.  _ “Hi.” _

“Whe-where are you?” Nicky flicked the top off the pen. 

_ “Bodø, Norway.”  _ Nicky scribbled down the name, registering the clicking of the Copley’s keyboard in the background. 

“We’re coming.” 

***

Before the car was even parked, Nicky was out the door. Nile finished parking before following him and Andy down the cobblestone street. It was surprisingly calm for a market in the middle of the day, allowing them to reach the coffee shop quickly.

The three missing members were sitting at a corner table, positioned around it so there wouldn’t be any blind spots. Booker was drinking coffee, Oli was watching a small flock of sparrow like birds nearby, and Joe’s eyes were searching for Nicky. 

Nicky spotted Joe first. “Joe!”

Joe’s face split into a grin, jumping up from his chair to welcome his love into his arms. Nicky sprinted into them, causing an audible noise from the impact. Nicky held onto Joe tight, breath fluttering against his neck. Nicky pulled away, their bodies still pressed together, kissing Joe gently. Nicky pulled back, making a face. 

Joe didn’t like that face. “What’s wrong?”

Nicky chuckled. “You taste of salt.”

Joe groaned, rubbing his face with his hand. “Still? I have had five black coffees.”

Nicky laughed, leaning in to give Joe a peck before turning to look at the others. He couldn’t see Booker’s eyes through the sunglasses, but Booker raised his cup in acknowledgement. Oli was still watching the birds, one knee pressed to their chest, while talking to Nile who had pulled up a chair. Andy came out of the shop holding three more cups, handing one to Nile and Nicky, which he accepted as he slid into the chair next to Joe. Nicky took a sip and intertwined their fingers, a small gesture. Joe smiled at him. Joe looked tired, but relieved. Nicky returned the smile, hiding the conflict he felt towards Quynh for taking away his love.

“How did you get out?” Andy took off her sunglasses, setting them on the table. “Joe?”

Joe sighed, wishing he could avoid it a little longer, but alas, he could not. “You should be thanking our newest member.” He looked at Oli affectionately. “Oli got out first, and swam us to safety.”

“You did some swimming too,” Oli changed seating positions, crossing their legs on the chair. “But Booker is like a fly in water.”

“Hey, I carried you for a while after you died of hypothermia,” Booker protested, but his words held no malice. 

Oli smiled genuinely at him. “I know. Thank you.”

Booker was taken aback. Oli had never really, _truly,_ smiled. After a few moments of trying to come up with a response, he settled on a smile.

Nicky rubbed his thumb on Joe’s knuckle. “Where did you get a phone?”

“Booker bought one,” Joe took a sip of his sixth coffee. “I don’t know how, but he decided I should be the one to call.”

Nicky gave Booker a surprised look. It would have made more sense if they had just called Andy, but Booker had known Nicky would have been a wreck. Booker nodded to him, as if to say, “I know.”

Andy laced her fingers with Booker’s underneath the table. Booker may be banished, but he was still family. They should probably move on, but for now, this coffee shop, these people, and the salty sea air was enough.


	38. The Orphanage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I haven't updated this in two months. Woah. I am so sorry! Hopefully you are still invested and interested. So let's do a little recap:
> 
> Oli, Booker, Joe - all at the bottom of the ocean  
> Copley, Andy, Nile, Nicky - looking for them  
> Oli, Booker, Joe - Get out, make it to dry land  
> The gang reunites!  
> The end is coming soon, but not prematurely, and the end will not be in another 2 months.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw: sexual violence and assault, human trafficking

Booker gazed at the flask. It sat alone in the middle of the table. 

The chair scraped against the ground as he stood. He backed up, eyes unable to leave it. 

Joe and Nicky walked in, arms around each other. They hadn’t separated since they got back, and everyone doubted that would end anytime soon. 

They stopped, staring at the flask. 

“Block the doorway to the kitchen, good idea, boys,” Andy shouldered past them. They took the hint and chose to lean against the counter instead. She strode past Booker, grabbing a glass from the cupboard. As she sidled up to him next to the sink, and the cold water splashed into the cup, she glanced over her shoulder to the flask. She turned, leaning back against the counter and bringing the rim to her lips. She tapped Booker’s foot with her own. _Talk._

“I…” Booker sighed and rubbed his face with both hands. They were rough against him and he needed to do a better job at shaving. His initial shave was done poorly. “I want to take a drink so fucking bad but I...I can’t.”

Andy glanced at the lovebirds, Nicky offering a shrug. 

“I get it,” Joe stepped up to the table. “At first the thirst is overwhelming, but now…” He shivered. Joe looked up at Booker, who was nodding along. Joe grabbed the flask and crossed the small room. He dropped it into the waste bin, watching it settle before slamming the lid. 

Booker had a small pained expression on his face, but he shifted away. It was for the best. 

“I would like to talk to Oli,” Nicky was quiet as Joe rejoined him. “That night in the warehouse,” Nicky shook his head. “Something about those boxes changed them completely.” Booker opened his mouth to protest, and even Joe seemed to have qualms about his lover’s proposition.

“Okay,” Oli’s voice broke the tension in the air. They were sitting in the room next to the kitchen, perched on the armrest of a chair. Nile exited the bathroom so the side, slowing at the sight of them all gathering.

“You don’t have to talk if you’re not ready too,” Booker assured them. 

“I don’t know that I’ll ever be ready,” they shrugged. Oli took a deep breath, slowly rubbing their hands together. “And better to face it now then spend an eternity running from it.”

“Alright,” Nicky said slowly. He faced Oli. “Tell us your story.”

***

_The Two Eternities of Grace Catholic Church. A place of worship, an orphanage, a complete facade._

_It’s where a lot of kids go on the islands if they get orphaned and don’t have family. An odd statement in itself, a lot of people had family, and parents didn’t die very often._

_It was known as the best orphanage due to their large donations and devoted parishioners. It had a private school that was one of the best in the state. All the rich kids went there, along with orphans._

_But the rich kids got to go home. We didn’t._

_The priests that led the services weren’t the ones who led the orphanage. It showed. The ones at the orphanages were cruel and ruthless. They would beat children whose shirt was buttoned incorrectly._

_And then, once you turned five, you got the real deal. You got to go to school, help with the chores, go to Sunday school._

_If you misbehaved they didn’t just beat you anymore._

Oli swallowed.

_They put you in a box._

_The boxes were the same size as the ones we were in. Depending on your transgression, the longer you stayed._

_They put me in a box for five days once._

Oli looked down, unable to stomach the discomfort in the room.

_And when they take you out…_

Oli felt the tears prick their eyes.

_They rape you._

Oli cleared their throat, knowing if they didn’t the tears would escape.

_But there’s hope, because the older kids keep getting adopted. They disappear completely from your life, like they never existed. They never write, and you never see them, even if they were adopted by a local family._

_They just...disappear._

_I never figured out what would have happened if we told. Once, a rumor of a girl two years older than me told. She disappeared with all the rest._

_And then you turn ten._

Oli could feel their back shudder as they spoke.

_And they put you in a bigger box but it’s smaller because it is jam packed with people, mostly kids. You get jostled and hit and thrown up on and suffocated._

Oli started to talk faster.

_Finally, they open it, only to put you in individual boxes for creepy men who drip with poison and view you like a piece of meat._

_And if you’re lucky, you run._

_If you have a gift from God, you live._

***

Oli chose to look up. Everyone looked shaken. Nicky was sitting, hands balled in front of his mouth. Joe stood beside him, rubbing his back. Booker was looking at the floor, attempting to hide his wet eyes. Oli couldn’t see Nile, but could feel the mix of emotions coming from Nile’s direction told Oli exactly how she was taking it.

Andy was staring straight at them, eyes sad and open. They weren’t full of judgement or pity, they were just there. Ready.

Gazing at Andy, Oli didn’t feel like they were drowning anymore.


	39. Butterflies

The graphite splintered over the page from the pressure, creating small shards of dull gray across the page. It almost looked like an explosion, the shards the shrapnel, the pencil the bomb and Oli the catalyst.

_ It was for the best _ , Oli concluded. The drawing was in it’s ugly phase, and it was unlikely it would ever exit it. 

They dropped the now useless pencil on the ground with a clatter. Oli watched as it rolled, stopping right next to their foot. Oli leaned forward onto their knees, examining the dirtied yellow coating as they gently started to roll the pencil with their shoe, from heel to toe.

A small gust of wind sent a scatter of leaves tumbling through the air, causing Oli to shiver. A squeak accompanied it, with the old wooden thumping softly into place as Joe’s boots stepped into their peripheral.

Joe gazed out past the dirt drive, hands in pockets. He blinked, trying to place the small rattling. His eyes traveled to the ground, where Oli was rolling a pencil under foot.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

Oli pushed themself up to a sitting position, rubbing their thumb in the spine of their sketchbook. 

“May I?” Joe felt a sense of relief as Oli nodded. He sat down, leaning on his knees. He pulled on his sleeve, noticing the wind through his thin shirt. “That was brave.” Joe rotated one of his rings around with his thumb as Oli stayed unresponsive. “How are you feeling?”

Oli raked a hand through their hair. “Tired.” They laughed with no joy, just exhaustion. “I think that’s the first time I’ve ever told anyone.” The pencil stopped, and Oli kicked it away. It rolled down the broken concrete stairs before it came to a rest in the dirt.

Joe bumped his shoulder into theirs. “I’m proud of you.”

Oil’s breath hitched, and they forced themself to push it out. They couldn’t remember the last time someone had told them that. They couldn’t remember the last time they had felt this comfortable with anyone. They couldn’t remember a lot anymore. Oli had thought about it on the drive back. How would the reality of immortality affect their memory? How had it affected Booker, reaching 200 years? Or Nicky and Joe, who had been alive for over 900 years? Or Andy? Or Quynh? How would thousands of years take that? Would Oli forget their childhood, what little they remember as it was?

Joe noticed Oli’s eyes start to glaze over. Joe understood getting lost in thought. He also understood the danger in it. 

“What were you writing?” Oli’s eyes snapped to meet his. Oli chuckled, but Joe didn’t know at what. Like Oli had a secret.

“Drawing,” Oli corrected him. Joe’s eyes sparkled, excited at the new artist in the family. Oli waved the sketchbook half heartedly. “It helps me process shit.”

“Processing is good,” Joe smiled encouragingly. He locked eyes with Oli. Their eyes were dark and deep, pulling him in. He found himself breathless staring into their eyes, more soulful than dying men he’d met. He started to get lost in them when the worn sketchbook brushed against his hand. He frowned, looking down at his hands where it hovered above his hands. “Ar-are you sure?” Oli nodded, so he gently took the book. His thumb brushed the edge of the cover, and he looked to Oli for verification. A small smile graced their features. Joe opened the book.

It broke his heart.

The first drawing was of Quynh. The bubbles were escaping her lungs as the coffin kept her chained. Joe felt himself back under the waves and the cold and the pressure because it was just  _ so real. _

He turned the page and felt his heart plummet.

A young child, small and curled into themself was almost completely hidden by a box made by scribbles. 

The silhouette of someone, holding a gun to their forehead. The blood from the wound was made of words. Worthless. Stupid. Just a toy. For me. I love her. Can I take a test run?

An angel, collapsed on the ground sobbing, her wings ripped from her back.

A tombstone with flowers in front of it, and the soft lines of a ghost cradling them softly.

More and more and more and all just filled with pain. Gut wrenching pain that threatened to rip your chest apart. A pain so deep you can’t scream because there is no scream worthy enough to represent the turmoil.

“They took my humanity,” Joe could hear the shame without looking at Oli.

Joe stopped on a drawing. A trail of butterfly’s flying to make a Star of David. “They never took it from you.” He tilted the book to them. “This is the work of someone overflowing with emotion.”

Oli tried to hide their smile, but upon failure, hung their head to hide it. Joe felt his smile grow as he handed the sketchbook back. Oli took it, their small smile lifting Joe’s heart. He couldn’t promise they would heal soon, or that the recovery would be linear. Oli leaned into his shoulder, but not as a simple touch. Their warmth stayed. Joe pressed back. 

Oli had been without a family for so long, they didn’t remember what it was like. Joe’s warmth, Booker’s teases, Nile’s kindness, Nicky’s patience, and Andy’s stubbornness.

Oli thought back to something Papa had told them once, after there had been a day where everyone was asking about if he was really their father or not.

_ “Papa, why don’t they think you’re my papa?” Oli had been upset and confused. “Do they think that because you don’t love me?” _

_ Papa’s face had shattered. He knelt down and rested his hands on Oli’s shoulders. “My darling,” he had whispered. “No matter the family you are born to or the family you choose , there is always someone out there waiting to love you.” He took a deep breath, searching the child’s eyes. “And even if I wasn’t your biological father, I would always love you.” _

Oli chose the right family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The butterfly drawing is a nod to the book and play I Never Saw Another Butterfly, which is a compilation of children's drawings and poems while in the concentration camp and ghetto combination Terezin. If you went there, the next stop was Auschwitz. There was a secret teacher and a secret school. The paper they used was anything they could find, like the back of forms thrown away. They buried the drawings and poems at the edge of camp, and when they were discovered they were assembled to make the book.


	40. I Think We Should

Nile rubbed Andy’s back as she coughed up the coffee she had inhaled. “You-“ Andy coughed one more time before settling on a rasp. “You want to what?”

“I want to talk to Quynh,” Oli said plainly. “You guys can come.”

“That’s a bad idea,” Andy’s voice started to return as she attempted to glare the idea out of Oli.

“I never said it was a good one,” Oli was oddly at peace. Booker found it unsettling. He wanted to yell at them, ask them why. Why in their right mind would they allow themself to even open their mind to the possibility of Quynh after hour after hour of thick blood and stolen breath.

“No,” Andy used the voice she used when she told Joe and Nicky she was going to stop looking. Firm. Solid. Hurt. 

But Joe and Nicky had been with Andy for centuries. They would listen to her, they knew her. They didn’t push the boundaries. They saw the pain, they shared it with her. They knew it. It broke into your chest, slithered up your back and bit you so hard that you wished you could die.

_ “500 years inside a box.” _

They felt it every time Booker woke up screaming. Every time he died from alcohol poisoning. 

They saw it every time they stopped in a library, running their hand across the spines and the pang when a title pertained to the Salem Witch Trials.

Andy tried not to remember Vietnamese or understand the conversations she heard in passing. 

Nicky liked to forget his breathing technique when he lined up a shot from a mile away. Forget his teacher was drowning under thousands of meters of pressure, unable to breath.

Joe wouldn’t remember the teases, but when a white man who dripped with malice and money called him names that would taunt him for years later, she was there with her fist in his throat, giggles building as she grabbed his arm and they ran.

Booker doesn’t know that pain. But he knows what it is to lose.

Nile doesn’t know that pain. But she knows what it is to know nothing and the fear that accompanies it.

Oli doesn’t know that pain. But they’ve come the closest. They’ve drowned in more ways than one.

Oli didn’t know of history, yet they met Quynh before anyone else. They lived inside Quynh’s mind for six years. 

They didn’t drown her out with booze like Booker. They had more time with her than with Nile.

Oli may not know the Quynh they did. But Oli was the closest to knowing the Quynh of now.

And Oli was still comfortable saying no to Andy.

Joe’s rings were cold against his lips. He didn’t want to see Quynh. Looking around the room, no one else did either. But Oli brought up a point none of them had readily considered. They couldn’t wait much longer. Quynh would be back soon.

“I think we should.”

Andy’s head whirled around to Nicky. She expected him to be tense, to be furious. Instead, he was relaxed against the back of the chair, hands folded in his lap. 

“We need to talk to her,” Nicky leaned forward, challenging her. 

“We tried that already!” Andy scoffed, looking to the others for support.

“You went to talk to her,” Booker raised his eyebrow, shifted from his closed stance with crossed arms against the doorframe. “We,” he circled his finger. “Haven’t talked to her.”

“Book,” Andy gripped her hair in her hands. “I, we…” she sighed heavily, staring at the grain in the table. “I don’t know how to talk to her.”

“I might.”

Andy raised her head to look at Oli, shaking it slightly. “How?”

“She’s in turmoil,” Oli twisted their lips. “I  _ get _ that. I  _ live _ that.”

Nile watched as Oli stared down a six thousand year old woman.

“Let me try,” Oli pleaded, sliding into the seat next to Andy. “Please.”

Andy glanced around the room. Nicky nodded, and she knew Joe agreed. She looked to Booker, the corners of his mouth upturned. 

Finally, her eyes slid to Nile. Nile bit her lip, but nodded.

Andy’s eyes found Oli’s again. “Okay.”

***

“Let’s go over it one more time,” Andy tore her gaze from the warehouse they had approached what seemed like a thousand years ago. She looked at her team in the mirror. 

Grumbles floated up from the back of the car. 

“We go in armed,” Andy barely felt the cold air against her eyes as she refused to blink. “We lay down the guns.”

Booker held up a finger to protest. Nicky kicked him in the shin. Booker closed his mouth with a squeak.

“And then,” Andy stopped herself from swallowing the words. They were just so  _ wrong _ . “We let Oli talk to Quynh.” She squeezed the wheel. “Am I clear?”

Again, the grumbles.

“Am. I. Clear?” She gritted out. Andy released the wheel when given a reluctant affirmative, her eyes sliding back to the building. “You sure about this?”

Oli pursed their lips and nodded. 

Andy sighed, hoping for one more chance to talk Oli out of it. “Then let’s go.”


	41. We don't have to Drown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: a tad violent, and mental instability/breakdown

The building was worse the second time. Oli noticed its age. It was falling apart. The roof had collapsed in certain spots, the stars peaking through to say hello. The floor was worn and discolored. The blood hadn’t been washed out. The windows were broken, with shards of glass underneath them. The ground was littered with bullets, broken glass and other miscellaneous wreckage. 

The crates were gone. There was no equipment. Just a moonlit room with a softly lit woman.

Quynh didn’t move when the footsteps echoed through the stone building. The stone prison. Instead, her focus was on a longbow made of weathered wood, a quiver attached to her side. She caressed her thumb over the smooth surface, gently running her fingers up the string. 

The group took slow steps inside, a perfect formation, leaving no corner uncovered. As the empty room revealed nothing but the smell of copper and grief, they slowly lowered their weapons. Oli stepped forward. 

“No matter what she does to me,  _ do not help, _ ” Oli gritted as they dropped their gun and it clattered to the ground, echoing against the walls. Quynh’s head lifted, and the bow slowly lowered to her side. 

Andy’s chest tightened as the light reflected against Quynh’s eyes as her head turned. Andy took her gun and threw it. It slid across the ground, skittering infront of Oli’s. 

Joe saw Nicky force his shoulders to relax, and together, they bent down and put down their firearms. 

Nile had a disgruntled look on her face, but upon Andy’s facial prompting, dropped it. 

Booker was the last one. 

They all stared at him, but he was stuck in tunnel vision. Unable to breath. Back in the apartment. Stuck in her eyes. Stuck.

Andy slapped the barrel of his weapon, forcing it to the floor. She gripped the back of his neck and forced his face to hers. 

“Breath,” she whispered as she pulled the gun from his loosening fingers. His breath was shaking against her, but he let her take the gun. “Steady.”

Booker swallowed, a tight expression flashing across his features. He shook his head, then nodded. “I’m good,” he whispered. “I’m good.”

Oli took a steadying breath, tearing their eyes away to face Quynh. Half turned to her, perpendicular to her. Oli put up their hands.

Step. 

“Hi, Quynh,” Oli started. “So-”

Oli grunted and fell to one knee. Quynh lowered the bow, her hand still pressed against her cheek. “Okay,” Oli pulled out the arrow and dropped it unceremoniously onto the ground. As the wound healed, they forced themself up, taking another unsteady step. “That’s one way to start.” 

Quynh didn’t break gaze as she notched another arrow. Oli’s eyes tracked her movements, but didn’t make any effort to stop them. “I just want to talk.” 

Oli dropped to the ground, the arrow flying over their head. The footsteps of the others told Oli they scattered. They glanced back as they pushed themself off the ground. Joe and Nile were hovering to the side with Andy, with Booker and Nicky on the other. 

“I don’t.” 

The sound of the tension on the string snapped Oli’s attention back, and they just narrowly avoided it. It sliced across their cheek, the wound starting to close as fast as it was inflicted. “Quynh,” Oli sighed as Quynh reached for another arrow. “We can help you.”

Step.

“I don’t want your help,” Quynh lined up the arrow against the arch. “I don’t want your pity,” she brought it to her face. “I want vindication.”

Oli saw Quynh shift. They moved to the left as the arrow left its archer, embedding it into their shoulder instead of into Andy. 

“Do you call them help?” Oli let the arrow fall on its own accord. “The men you hired? That’s temporary, Quynh.”

Step. 

Knotch. 

Oli jumped to the side, the arrow flying into the doorway. “They will die, Quynh, and then you are left alone again.”

“I’ll get new ones.”

Booker pulled Nicky back as an arrow whizzed past, Nicky’s hand firm on his abdomen, keeping him back. “How the fuck is this supposed to help Quynh?!” He hissed. Nicky shrugged. “Thank you, you’re very helpful.”

“These people are-ow, fuck,” Oli exhaled heavily, pressing a hand to their now bleeding ribs. They swung their hand out. “Are your fucking family. They are forever. They want to help you!”

Step. 

Oli slipped, an accidental gift. Little pieces of hair fell onto their face as they landed hard on their back. 

“Do you know what I would give, to say one word, to my father again?” Oli looked at the ceiling, the moon hiding behind the edge of a hole. They rolled onto their elbow. 

“My family has been dead for thousands of years,” Quynh shrugged. Oli rolled out of the way just in time. 

“This family isn’t,” Oli stood unsteadily, no longer taking tentative steps. They started towards the woman, the arrow cutting deep across their arm. “And they would do anything for you!”

“My family left me!” Quynh’s frustration grew as the arrows weren’t slowing them down, just bouncing off like they were invincible. “My family, not yours!”

Oli was less than 3 meters away from Quynh. 

“They are still yours!” Oli was breathing on Quynh. Their hands were warm against Quynh’s. The touch threw Quynh off. It was only once it was too late that she registered the bow clattering on the ground behind Oli. Quynh’s eyes started to shiver, and the cold resolve started to ebb. But not fast enough to stab Oli in the chest. 

Oli fell to the ground, coughing, grasping for the arrow. But the blood on their hands and the blood on the arrow made it too slick, too impossible. Just like it was in the apartment.

***

The five watched as the light faded from Oli’s sprawled form on the ground, the blood pooling. 

Joe surged forward, unaware of it, an uncontrollable urge. Nile and Andy tackled him to the ground.

“Joe, no!” Nile pressed her knee into his chest, the rough ground scratching her knuckles as she pinned his wrist. Andy sat on his legs. 

“Let me go!” Joe kicked, squirming, trying to escape their grasp.

Nicky watched as his husband completely failed to overcome Andy and Nile. His hands itched to help him, but knew it was for the best. He turned his attention to Oli, where the arrow dropped to the ground and their chest rose with a gasp. 

Something else was moving. 

Quynh took her first step back, her chest starting to rise and fall at a quickening pace. She had started to shake as she stared where the wound used to be.

“Take two,” Oli rasped, getting their leg up beneath them. They glanced up at Quynh, only to take a longer, paused look, examining the change in demeanor. “This,” Oli watched as the woman started to curl into herself, no longer exuding confidence and rage, but fear. “Is a trauma response.” 

Oli straightened, and Quynh took another step back. Oli held up their hands again, but didn’t retreat. “I get that.”

“How could you possibly  _ understand _ anything?” Quynh ground her teeth. She needed to  _ get out _ . She needed to  _ get away _ .

“You have a point,” Oli scrambled through their thoughts, attempting to formulate a response. “I didn’t spend 500 years under the water. But I have drowned.”

“Cause I put you there,” Quynh’s lower lip quivered.  _ Wrong way,  _ Oli cursed themself.  _ Going backwards idiot. _

“I haven’t drowned just in water, Quynh,” Oli’s eyes flicked to the side where Joe had given up his struggle, but Andy was sitting on his chest. “I’ve been drowning for a long time.” 

Quynh stumbled back, falling onto the ground. She pulled at her hair, her vision started to blur.  _ Shut up, shut up, shut up.  _

Oli started to kneel, refusing to tear their gaze from Quynh. Now was the true decider of where things turned. “We don’t have to keep drowning.”

“I,” Quynh started to rock back and forth. “I, no, I-”

“Quynh.”

Quynh stilled, the power of her name and the voice in the quiet space almost overwhelming. 

“Look at me.”

Quynh shook her head, but her grasp on her hair loosened. Her breath hadn’t slowed, but it was one of the only things she could hear. Quynh felt Oli move closer, felt the breath of the others hold, their gazes fixed. Gazes so strong they threatened to tear her apart. 

“I know you want revenge. And I know you know what you’re doing is wrong.”

Quynh lifted her eyes to just over her knees, before huddling back inside. Oli was so sincere. So genuine. 

“But there is no lasting satisfaction in it,” Oli pressed the pads of their fingers to the ground in their kneeling state, ready to move forward. “We  _ can’t  _ die. Instant gratification won’t undo the self loathing and hate that comes after years with us.”

“I already hate myself,” Andy wanted to cry at the words. Quynh, once such a decorated and confident warrior, was as small as an injured mouse.

“I know,” Oli sighed. They were all too familiar with the feeling. “But you don’t have to. Because you are loved. Yeah,” Oli looked around. “You may have burned a few bridges. But these people aren’t going anywhere.”

“How do you know that?” Quynh’s eyes met Oli’s, desperate and pleading. Tears streamed down her face as she shook, threatening to cement her in place.

“Because they are here,” Oli felt a small victory and rush of relief as Quynh’s focus on them kept her unfocused on hyperventilating. “Without prompting from you. I know it’s hard, but you have to let them in.”

“I’m afraid,” Quynh whispered, Oli’s gaze too much, choosing the floor instead. “I don’t know how.”

Oli rubbed the back of their neck, pressing a knee to the ground to balance themself. “Right now, you are feeling lost. Empty. Numb. Lifeless,” Oli searched for words that weren’t there. “And it sucks.”

Quynh nodded, so small Oli almost didn’t catch it. “But I get it.” Oli lowered their head at an angle, capturing Quynh’s gaze again. “And I’m tired of living in that state.” Quynh’s tears started to lessen, eyes wide. “Aren’t you?”

Oli flicked their gaze to the side as they heard Andy get off Joe and pull him to his feet, their boots scraping against the floor, their hands connecting in a soft slap. 

Oli bit the inside of their lip, and took a gander. They held out their hand, and it brushed against Quynh’s knee. She shivered at the contact. 

“Let’s stop drowning together.”

Quynh was scared. Her whole body was full of a fear she had been plagued with for centuries. Afraid of the future. Afraid of the past. Afraid of what could become, good and bad. Afraid they would want to return her. 

But Oli had been with them for less than six months. Just peering into their eyes, Quynh could see atrocity. Fear. Fury. Someone who had wronged and been wronged. 

She looked to Booker and Nicky. Booker looked hesitant, but not closed off. Nicky, despite his rage, showed her only love. 

Nile, like Booker, was stiff, but not unwelcoming. Joe mirrored his husband, full of hope. And Andy…

Andy was as full of fear as she was. She was vulnerable. She was diving in the unknown, taking a chance on someone Quynh wasn’t sure existed anymore. Quynh felt the breath leave her chest as she stared at her, the first person to truly care in a way no one else did. The first person to open up her world. The first person to allow her to be her.

Quynh shifted back to Oli. The stupid teenager with the endless eyes. The outstretched hand. The knee on the ground and open stance, willing to compromise personal safety for her.

Quynh’s hands were shaking but she did it. 

Oli smiled as Quynh’s hand slipped into theirs.


	42. Epilogue

Epilogue

Andy gazed out the window. She had always loved this safehouse. It was large, secluded, and overlooked the sea. Nile was in a heated debate with Booker about the Renaissance and Shakespeare’s effect , Joe and Nicky were “cleaning their weapons”, and Oli was out front with Quynh, getting an archery lesson. She smiled at the sight as she pushed a gray hair out of her face. It had been millenniums since she had aged, and Andy wasn’t sure she was going to get used to it.

Oli was a quick learner, and soon after the “event”, as they were calling it now, they discovered Oli liked to fight at a distance, but they could definitely hold their own in close combat. They no longer flinched when Joe, Booker, or Nicky appeared quietly behind them. They competed with Joe for Nicky’s praise on drawings, and much to Oli’s chagrin, Nicky showered them with love for a detailed drawing of Andy or a smiley face. Like Joe and Nicky, Oli had a nickname, but it was never consistent. Everyone knew that Oli wasn’t their real name, so they often called them names with “Oli” in it, from “Olivia,” to “Soliman” (Booker came up with that one). Oli just smiled and shook their head. They trained primarily with Quynh and Nicky, but sparred with everyone. 

Andy laughed quietly at the thought of the day Nicky offered his sniper rifle. Oli’s eyes had lit up like a child’s in a candy store, and they had jumped up enthusiastically and almost pulled Nicky’s arm off on the way out the door.

Andy opened the patio door, and wandered towards them. At the moment, Quynh was supervising them practicing from unstable, unusual stances. She heard a shout of alarm, with Oli contorted, half on the ground half off, where they had clearly lost their balance. 

Over the past ten years, they had managed to unpack and get Quynh the help she needed, and while she wasn’t without issues and still had a long way to go to unpack 500 years of torture, she was better. Oli had also gotten help, and like Quynh, was not without their issues, but they were open and smiled and had become a critical part of the family. Together as they healed, they became close and would often disappear for a few hours and pop back up with wide grins and a mischievous secretive smirk.

After the “event” Oli’s aging had slowed. After they turned 18, they stopped. None of them knew why, but Nile was working on a theory that after Oli’s body and mind were developed enough, their body had no other reason to grow and age. Oli humored Nile by adding fuel to the fire, and answered her questions when she was in an inquisitive mood. 

As Andy walked up to the two, Oli bowed their head in acknowledgement, and started towards the house, taking their bow and quiver with them.

“Hi,” Andy said to Quynh as Oli passed her. “How is Oli doing?”

“Amazing as always,” Quynh grinned as she pulled the arrows out of the trees.

“Clearly, as they were on the ground a minute ago,” Andy teased. Quynh laughed with a shrug. “It’s almost eight,” Andy mentioned, staring out at the water. Quynh joined her, intertwining their fingers together.

“Thank you,” Quynh leaned into Andy slightly.

“For what?” Andy asked, even though she already knew.

“For not giving up on me,” Quynh looked up at her, a small smile flashing across her features.

The two women watched as the sun lowered, sending a pleasant glow across the water. They stood in silence, and they leaned into one another, reassuring each other they were there.

“Always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End! What a sweet way to end this journey. When I started this journey seven months ago, I had no idea I would write a story that leads up to 100 consecutive pages of writing. That's crazy to me! Thank you so much for all your support and dedication, even when I was absent for large amounts of time. I have never undertaken such a large project, and I am so grateful for how this one went. :)
> 
> If you see this pop up on Wattpad, do not be alarmed! I am on Wattpad, working with my best friend and myself to continue to write more original content.


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